


Odd's Drabbles: the Sequel

by Odderancy (dreamcatchers_and_chocolate)



Series: Undertale One-Shot Collections [7]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Twistfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Aromantic, CherryBlossom, Cherryberry - Freeform, Demon Summoning, Domestic Violence, F/F, F/M, LV-Issues, M/M, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Skyrim AU, Spicypuppy - Freeform, The Dark Brotherhood AU, Twistfell Papyrus - Freeform, UF Burgersans, Underfell Burgerpants, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), edgelord supreme, honeyblossom - Freeform, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2019-09-12 09:06:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 35
Words: 49,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16870099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamcatchers_and_chocolate/pseuds/Odderancy
Summary: A collection of oneshots and drabbles about Undertale and its AUs from my Tumblr, and also new ones I write, since Tumblr seems to be killing itself.Here you'll find Mapleblossom, Rottenberry, aromantic Red and ships with him, Twisted Edgelord, Kustard, various platonic relationships and much more. And alotof historical AUs.





	1. Chapter 1

Leaning back in the couch, Red smutted on the bottle of mustard in his hand. He grinned as it burned in his throat – much to his brother’s horror, he’d mixed it with bourbon. His body buzzed pleasantly. And he could need it. In the armchair next to the couch, Stretch nuzzled Red’s brother’s neck before turning back to him, their hands intertwined. Rolling his eyes, Red threw his head back, taking another few gulps of his drink.

“C’mon, you two,” he drawled, scowling as the bottle coughed, proving he’d drunk it all. “Give a guy some peace from your PDA.”

Snorting, Edge raised an eyebrow. “Like how you respected my wishes not to see you bareboned when I had to come drag your half-unconscious ass home after you’d slept with  _prostitutes_ , you mean?”

“Yeah!” He blinked. “Wait. No. It’s cheating to play mind games when ‘m drinkin’, asshole.”

That had Stretch chuckling in Edge’s lap, and his eyes sparkled with amusement as he grabbed the second mustard bottle standing on the table, bouncing it in his hand. Red’s eyes followed it, and he narrowed them. “I think you’ll survive.” Stretch grinned widely. “So. You’ll wear a suit on Blue’s wedding? If I’ve got to, then so do you.”

“Yeah yeah, I will. Now gimme my mustard.” He snatched it out of the air as Stretch threw it, and immediately opened it, putting it to his mouth. The buzzing grew stronger. Edge huffed, but he didn’t actually care, Red knew that. He wasn’t going to drink himself into a stupor today. Rarely did, since they got to the Surface. The last time, it had only been because he’d somehow ended up in a drinking contest with Blue, and some-fucking-how, the  _Blueberry had won_. Hadn’t Blue been rubbing it in his face the next morning, he would’ve believed he had hallucinated the entire evening.

As much as he pretended to hate his brother and Stretch’s public shows of affection, though, when Edge pressed a gentle kiss to Stretch’s hand and Stretch beamed at him, Red had a hard time to keep himself from smiling as well. It was…  _nice_ , to see his brother this content, this  _happy_.

Stretch caught his gaze, and Red’s faint smile turned into a scowl as the other smirked. “How’s it going for you then, Red? Found anyone to romance you yet?”

A snicker. “Pretty sure my soulmate’s a bag o’ gummy worms, bud. But I appreciate yer concern,” he replied, throwing his free arm over the couch’s backrest. Romance? Nah, he didn’t give a damn. Never had. His brother may be the eternal romantic, but he personally had never seen the appeal. A bunch of good friends to drink with, and his brother. That was all he’d ever needed.

“I ate a whole bag of those this morning,” Stretch commented, shrugging. Exasperation flashed over Edge’s face, but he smiled.

Holding in a snigger, Red chucked the empty mustard bottle on him. Much to his disappointment, Edge caught it before it could hit its goal. “That was the love o’ my life, you fucking piece of shit.”


	2. The Summoning (Demon Blue-series)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because of [this marvellous drawing](https://kyuko-chan.tumblr.com/post/168395056931/blueberry), I started my own little series about demon Blue. Here's the first part I ever wrote about it (it's a little old because of that).

Edge was not okay with this. Not at all. Yet here he was, because he was also desperate. Standing in his parlour with every window open but covered by black silk, the chandelier turned off and the staff sent home early for the day. A a chilly breeze came through the fabric, making him shudder. Dark blue and black blueberry-scented candles were the only source of light in the enormous room. They stood on the floor, along the outer circle of the carefully drawn pentagram. The white chalk it was made of seemed to shimmer, to glow. The glow only came from the candlelight reflecting in it, he reasoned. Searched for some resemblance of normalcy. The pentagram was filled with ancient symbols and letters from long-dead alphabets.

After throwing the escaped end of his scarf over his shoulder and taking a deep breath, Edge lifted a hand and started chanting. He knew the words by heart, he had forced himself to learn them so he wouldn’t have to read them from the ancient book he’d found in their private library. So he wouldn’t risk messing up. At first, nothing happened. Then the lights fluttered. They turned blue.

Smoke rose from inside the five-pointed star inside the pentagram’s circle. Sweat dripped down his brow, but he kept chanting. He had come too far to back out now. At the last words of the chant he knelt, grabbing a white dove from its cage. It panicked, chirping loudly and trashing as he held it, but the noises quickly died out as he with a swift move slit its throat with a sharp phalange. Blood splattered over the pentagram. The world seemed to stutter. The darkness surrounding Edge grew more compact, unnaturally so, and the flames went out.

Within an eyeblink, they returned. They rose toward the ceiling, glowing light blue and white-hot and almost as tall as him. Edge held his breath. Then he let out a gasp as a blinding light flashed through the room. The world turned white for a second. Once it disappeared, he opened his eyes and let out a quiet shriek. Blue and yellow eyelights met his, the white skull of a horned skeleton having appeared just in front of his face. Just behind the lines of the pentagram.

The smartly dressed skeleton – the demon – smiled at him. Edge knew their name – he had summoned them after all. Blueberry. The demon was floating, their skinless batwings motionless behind them, and their smile turned into a smirk as Edge's soul pounded in his chest. He stared at them, frozen in fear. Half their face was covered in shadow.

“WHO DARES SUMMONING THE MAGNIFICENT BLUEBERRY?” they said, voice booming loud in the empty parlour.

At that, Edge's paralysis broke. His hands were trembling and he shoved them behind his back, straightened and stared straight into the demon’s eyes. It was a battle with his own mind, every instinct screaming at him to run. This was a predator of highest level. Although Edge was no prey he would not stand a chance against this being, should they get out from behind the protective barriers keeping him inside the circle.

“I want to bargain,” he replied, swallowing, without giving out his name. Never give your name to a demon was the first thing the book had told him. He was honestly proud of himself that his voice did not waver. Blueberry rolled his eyes, leaning forward. Toward Edge. Unconciously he recoiled slightly.

“WELL OF COURSE YOU DO.” The demon’s eyelights were burning. The yellow core of them seemed brighter than the candleflames. More intense. Despite himself, Edge was forced to break the eye contact. To turn away his gaze. “OR YOU WOULD NOT HAVE SUMMONED ME. BUT WHAT IS IT YOU WANT? AND WHAT CAN YOU OFFER IN RETURN?”

Edge was a businessman. Dealing was something he did daily. Yet the stakes had never been this high before. One wrong phrasing, one wrong word, and he could accidentally have given away something too precious to part with. Something he could never get back. Demons were infamous for their love of dealing in souls, after all. He took in a deep breath, doing his best to recall the words he had already prepared.

“I want you to heal my brother,” he said calmly. Red was dying and the doctors and healers unable to do anything despite their money. This was Edge's last chance to save him. His hands clenched behind his back, gripping each other tightly. “In return – what do you want? I will not bargain with mine or my brother’s soul, but otherwise I am willing to listen to your requests.”

For a brief moment the demon looked disappointed before they nodded. They adjusted the sleeves of their black suit nonchalantly before floating uncomfortably close to the pentagram’s borders. A wide Cheshire grin appeared on their face and their eyelights burned even brighter. Bright as the fires of Hell, Edge thought. As they spoke, their voice was filled with smug glee. It caused Edge's entire being to shiver in fear.

“I AM SURE WE CAN AGREE ON SOMETHING, EDGE.”


	3. Temple Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: In a few moments we shall marry, and you will instantly become the richest, most powerful woman in the land. Edge x Slim? I don’t know the ship name.

The ringing of the temple bells echoed through the city, over every cobblestone street and into every home. Crowds gathered on the streets and outside the temple, braving the whining snowstorm, waiting, dressed in their most colourful clothes, to get as much as a glance of their monarch and their soon-to-be-prince.

A sled with gold-covered runners and dark red walls rushed past them, throwing snows at all sides. The curtains were closed. As per tradition, no one was to see the couple before they were ready to enter the temple. Even inside it, they could hear the cheers of the people. A breathless aura laid over the city.

Inside the carriage, two young men sat opposite of each other on the black velvet seats. One was dressed in a suit of darkest red, the colour of life and death, of blood. A golden crown rested on top of his head. The other wore a suit as black as oblivion: as the night sky that allowed the stars to shine. Also this as per tradition: royal tradition, now. The black-clad skeleton fiddled with the white lace sleeves sticking out from his coat sleeves. Badly hidden anxiety played on his face.

Smiling faintly, Edge reached out. He cast a glance at his fiancé’s face, but when the other neither emoted nor pulled back, he grasped the other’s hand. Conflicting feelings played in his soul, but he showed nothing of it. As king, he had to know how to keep his emotions in check.

“Are you okay?” he asked, keeping his voice gentle.

Slim flinched, eyes flickering up at him before he immediately averted them again. “Yes, my King,” came the reply, much too fast.

Resisting the urge to sigh, Edge squeezed his hand just a tad. “Look at me,” he said, and Slim did. Of course he did, he had no other choice. One couldn’t disobey the King, after all. “In a few moments we shall marry, and you will instantly become the richest, most powerful man in the land. After me, of course.” A small nod. Slim was obviously frightened, and Edge could see why. “But I don’t expect anything of you that you cannot give, Slim. I promise. I will be your king, but I will also be your husband, and you can always tell me no.”

Slim actually met his eyes this time, doubt written over his face. Edge smiled, a sharp tint returning to it. “Well. Within reason: I am still the king of this land. But within marital matters, don’t ever think I will demand you to do anything you do not wish to. Do you believe me?”

For a few moments, Slim only regarded him silently. Searching, for something. Then he nodded, once. “I do.” He smiled faintly. “Thank you.”

Oh, he had a pretty smile. The corners of Edge’s mouth tilted upwards against his will, and he couldn’t do anything but grin back. “You don’t need to thank me.” _Love_ , he almost added, but it was too early. It was a common pet name for one’s spouse, but he didn’t love Slim. Not _yet_. But, as he saw the other smile at him, he was certain that it wouldn’t be difficult to learn to do so.

The sled stopped, making them jerk in their seat, and a gentle knock came from the door. “Your Majesty, my lord, we have arrived.”

He raised an eyebrow at Slim. Taking a deep breath, Slim nodded.

“We’re ready,” he said and let go of Slim’s hand, so he could offer his arm instead. Slim took it without hesitation.

Together, they climbed out of the sled. The temple bells continued to sing.


	4. Shag-Hag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: 'stop being dumb, take the offer to be my shag hag' with mapleblossom! i love these disaster children

The sun was going down at the horizon, and the last rays of light danced over the small farm at the edge of the town. Papyrus petted the neck of the horse before pressing his shoulder against her to make her move to the side. She was young and hadn’t quite learnt to react to subtler commands yet. They’d have to work on that. As he shovelled the horse poop on the ground into a wheelbarrow, he stubbornly ignored Slim’s rambling.

His childhood friend sat on the wooden fence, taking little notice of Papyrus’ growing annoyance. Sure, he loved Slim, in that weird, convoluted way that had only gotten more complicated the last year. Complicated in the way that he got really happy when he saw the other, and unusually sad whenever he was let down. And that he might’ve touched Slim a bit more than ever before and found that he really had a pretty smile when it was sincere. He really did love him. But god-fucking-dammit, he was tired, and had been working since dawn with only a short break for lunch, and Slim didn’t know how that was because his parents were landowners, so they had _money_ , and he really had no idea what Slim was even talking about. His story was so incoherent Papyrus almost wondered if he had been stealing herbs from the village wise woman again, even though he had stopped a year ago.

 “Hey, Papyrus, are you listening to me?” Slim’s voice broke through his thoughts.

Leaning heavily on his shovel, Papyrus glanced up at him and hummed noncommittedly. Slim grinned again, swinging his legs between the planks of the fence. “Gods, I really could use getting laid,” he said, regarding Papyrus.

Rolling his eyes, Papyrus turned back to his work as Slim fell quiet. If he just finished up here, then he could go home. As much as he loved the horses, he didn’t fancy spend the entire night cleaning Slim’s aunt’s stable.

Drops of mud splashed up on his already dirty boots as Slim jumped down from the fence. He threw an arm over Papyrus’ shoulders, grinning. “Hey. Pap. Lemme fuck you.”

He froze mid-shovelling, dropping it back on ground. Staring at Slim, he narrowed his eyes, trying to work out whether the other actually was being serious or not. It took his tired brain much too long to comprehend that his soul had flipped at the suggestion. That he found he wouldn’t exactly have minded, hadn’t Slim said it like _that_.

“No.”

The horse buffed at him, searching for candy, and he smiled gently as he shoved her head away. Slim pouted. Then he lit up. “Oh! Fuck _me_?”

Papyrus twitched, but glared at him. “No.”

“Sleep with me?”

He dumped some more poop into the bandwagon. “No, Slim.”

“Let’s do the nasty.”

“Slim I’m going to slap you.”

 Slim obviously didn’t believe him, staring at him intently before he smirked. “Stop being dumb, take the offer to be my shag-hag.”

The sound of bone against bone echoed over the yard. Wide-eyed, Slim slowly raised a hand to his cheek, where Papyrus’ hand had been just moments before. Papyrus stared at him, gaping. He shook his hand, his palm ached, as he tried to process that he had _actually_ slapped Slim. Pursing his lips, he shook his head slightly. He deserved it.

“You’re such an asshole.” He turned his back to the other, ignoring that his dumb soul ached. It was surely only because Slim was an asshole, not because the entire term of _shag-hag_ implied that Slim only wanted to because he couldn’t get someone else to have sex with him. And then he certainly couldn’t get Papyrus, because he was not some sort of last alternative. He was great, and anyone would be lucky to have him.

He worked in silence until a hand squeezed his shoulder. He froze before slowly turning around. He raised an eyebrow. Slim actually looked apologetic as he looked down on him, his smile hesitant. “I… sorry?” Wow, that was new. Slim never apologized. “Didn’t mean to go too far.”

“Well, you did,” Papyrus replied, though he smiled faintly. Sighing, he grasped the hand Slim had on his shoulder, taking it down. But he didn’t let go. “How would you feel if your best friend told you he’d fuck you as a last choice because he cannot get laid anywhere else?”

“I gue-” Slim cut himself off, eyes widening. “I’m your _best friend_? And you’re not upset over the rest? Just over being my ‘last choice’?”

For a moment, Papyrus considered. His soul raced with anxiety as he thought over his alternatives. He could lie, or he could not. In the end, he shook his head. His palms felt sweaty. “You are. And… I suppose I wouldn’t have minded otherwise. But I am certainly not anyone’s last resort, Slim. Anyone who thinks I am do not deserve me at all! And that includes you.”

“Oh.”

Everything was silent, except for the birds chirping in the background. Papyrus squeezed the shovel in his hands as he watched Slim and saw realization flash over the other’s face. Then something shoved him from behind, and he yelped, stomach dropping as he fell forward. He crashed into Slim, who let out a yell and then a groan as they landed in the mud. Papyrus gaped in horror as he saw Slim lying beneath him, ready to scramble off. The horse snorted behind them, sounding confused.

Slim opened his eyes, which had been squeezed shut, and they swept over the position they were in. Papyrus was on his hands and knees above him, and he laid in the mud. Then he let out a chuckle. “You sure you don’t wanna fuck me? We’re already in position here.” The corner of Papyrus’ mouth tilted upwards but Slim’s expression turned serious. “But really, Pap. You’re not my last choice in _anything_. I was just joking.”

Papyrus clenched his fingers around some of the grass on the ground before releasing a deep breath. He smiled. “Thank you. I am glad to hear that.” He climbed off the other. As he stood, he held out his arm, offering to pull Slim up, and Slim took it. “But no. I still won’t fuck you. _Or_ -” he added before Slim could do more than open his mouth. “-let you fuck me.”

“Yeah, alright.” Slim returned his smile. It was tentative, but Papyrus’ breath caught at how pretty it was. Gods, who gave Slim permission to get so pretty all of the sudden? Or had he always been that and he just hadn’t noticed? “That’s fair.”

“But,” he continued, “since you’re already dirty, if you help me clean this up, we can go take a bath in the lake together to wash off. Like when we were kids.”

His soul flipped again as Slim lit up, nodding eagerly. _Dammit_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things: firstly, I am NOT confident with this characterization. But whatever. and Secondly, I REALLY wanted Slim to say "you can slap me again" or "do that again" but it DIDN'T FIT DAMMIT


	5. Dog Collars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on these tweets: https://twitter.com/Odderancy/status/1071838464184852480

During the two days he’d been stuck in Underfell, Stretch had seen a lot. The one time he dared take down one of the planks covering the windows, he’d immediately been met by the sight of a fight in the middle of the street upon which Edge – his asshole counterpart – had soon appeared and terrified the bunny and the bear out of the fight until they cowered before him. After that he’d never tried to leave the house again. Yeah, his HP wasn’t _low_ , per se, at 140, but he didn’t doubt every monster out there had tons of intent.

Not least because he’d felt the intent Edge radiated when he found him in his house, before Red could explain. It had been enough to have him flinching away, and Stretch wouldn’t call himself an easily frightened monster.

He’d almost been dusted in the forest too, by the dogs – because in this universe, it was apparently the _dogs_ who guarded Snowdin, not the bunnies. Hadn’t Red appeared the right moment, he would undoubtedly just be another pile of dust in Snowdin forest. One of many, tainting the air and the snow. Turning it grey and making it taste like ash. It made him feel like he couldn’t breathe.

Yet, nothing quite upset him as much as seeing that _damned collar_ around Red’s neck. He glared viciously at it as he lounged in the living room couch, waiting for the other to finish his reports to the King – another difference, King Asgore was here and Queen Toriel was gone – so they could go down and work on the Machine. He really wanted to go home. Sans must be worried sick. But right now, he had something even more serious to worry about. How Edge, who was _him_ , had apparently claimed _ownership_ of his _brother_.

Wasn’t that the most fucked up thing he’d ever seen?

Heck yeah it was.

“Heh,” Red said, making him twitch. He looked up from the papers he had spread out on the coffee table, raising an eyebrow. “Ya got a problem wi’ my face, buddy? Yer lookin’ like yer tryin’ ta glare a hole in me.”

A blush lit up Stretch’s cheeks as he shook his head. He scooted over to Red’s side of the couch, ignoring how Red’s eyelights followed him with badly hidden amusement. After a moment of hesitation, he reached up to hook a finger around the crimson spiked collar around Red’s neck. Red blinked, surprise and confusion flashing over his face. He dropped his pen onto the table, and it clattered as it landed.

“Not you,” Stretch said. “This.”

Red frowned, staring at him like he was crazy. Hot rage rushed through Stretch. _Stars_. Edge had Red so brainwashed he didn’t even realize how messed up this was.

“What about it?”

“It’s really fricking messed up, Red, that’s _what about it_.” Offence flashed over Red’s face, and a noise akin to a growl escaped him. A warning. Stretch took no notice of it. “Red, your brother is a fucking asshole-” Something dark swept over Red’s face. “-and a _dangerous_ one at that, but I can accept that because your universe is a hellscape. But _this_ is going too far!”

“What th’ _hell_ are ya going on about?” Red exclaimed. His hand flew up to where Stretch’s fingers still were hooked around his collar and pried them off, squeezing tight.

Wincing in pain, Stretch threw up with his free hand. “He put a _dog collar_ on you! That’s messed up, man! Claiming ownership like that over his _own brother_.”

“Wha-” Red cut himself off, gaping. He let go off Stretch’s hand as his own fell to the couch, limp. With wide eyes, he stared at Stretch in complete astonishment before a mix of fury and _concern_ filled his eyes. He lifted his hand again to jerk at his collar. “This is a fuckin’ _accessory,_ buddy. _Fashion_. Look it up. What’s _wrong_ with ya? Wha’ kinda place- I thought yer universe was supposed ta be all sunshine an’ rainbows?!”

Now it was Stretch’s turn to gape. His soul pounded against his ribcage as he looked down on Red’s flabbergasted expression, but when he tried to speak, he couldn’t get a word out.

The door slammed open, a cold wind sweeping in and rustling Red’s papers, and both of them jumped. Red’s eyes flickered between him and the newcomer as Stretch twisted around, his breath catching, just in time to see Edge close the door again and lock all four locks. The lieutenant of the Royal Guard was in black armour with that torn, blood-red scarf around his neck. Three deep scars ran down over his eyes, reminiscent of the crack leading from Red’s, up on his skull. His perpetual scowl was covering his face, as always.

“Ey, boss,” Red said, incredulity shining through his voice. “Seems like Underswap ain’t as nice as we thought.”

“Oh?” Edge marched over to them, crossing his arms as he glared down at them both. Stretch’s soul froze over. By Toriel, his counterpart was _terrifying_. “Do elaborate on that, brother.”

“Stretch thought my collar was _yer claim o’ ownership_. That’s messed up.” He glanced at Stretch. “Like. Yeah our universe ain’t the nicest place but holy hell, at least we don’t do slavery.”

“What the absolute fuck.” Edge’s voice was collected but Stretch thought he could see horror shine through his gaze.

“Hey!” he protested, raising an arm like he was back in school. “We don’t do slavery either.”

Both of them turned to look at him. From the way they stared, he was certain neither of them believed him.

“Then why th’ fuck did ya make that assumption?” Red demanded, sticking his hands in his pockets and scooting away from him until he was basically sitting on the armrest, next to where his brother was standing.

Edge’s expression was passive as he met Stretch’s gaze, but there was something unidentifiable in his eyes. “I am glad to hear that you think so little of me that you seriously think I’d enslave my brother, ashtray.” He turned his back to him, only casting a gaze on Red before he stepped toward the staircase. “I will change clothes, and then I am off to see Undyne, Sans. You know your orders.”

Glancing at Edge, Red nodded. “Sure, boss.” Edge’s door clicked closed, and Red fixed his eyes on Stretch. Sweat slid down Stretch’s neck and he swallowed, leaning backwards. He couldn’t read the other at all and had no idea what the hell he was thinking, or _planning_. After a couple moments of tense silence, Edge came back out, now in black jeans and a leather jacket, and left through the front door without giving either of them a single look.

“Welp, ‘m going ta Grillby’s,” Red said, startling him, and jumped off the couch. Without a sound, he teleported over to the door. He glared at Stretch. “Ya stay right. There. And when ‘m back, yer going ta explain _exactly_ wha’s going on in yer universe, and then yer going ta apologize ta th’ boss.”

Stretch couldn’t do more than nod quickly, wide-eyed, before Red was gone. Once again, he’d shortcutted without a sound. How he did that, Stretch wasn’t sure. His own shortcuts were never silent.

Swallowing again, he picked up his phone and wrote his brother a message he likely wouldn’t ever receive. His soul raced, and his fingers shook as he tapped in the letters. _Love you, bro_.

Living had been fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red's going to Grillby's to do some spying and listen for dangerous rumours, if anyone's wondering. But Stretch doesn't know that


	6. Fires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: ❝ Tonight, you will join me in my bed. ❞ --Honeyblossom.  
> Warnings for post-story noncon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated with myself for a long time if I should give in to the inherent creepiness of that sentence or not, and then I flipped a coin

The frost crystals covering the window sparkled in the sunlight. When Rus saw it, he stopped dead in the middle of the narrow spiral staircase, a smile lighting up his face. They spread over the glass in a fern-like pattern, a rare beauty in the servants’ parts of the castle. That smile was knocked off his face as something collided with him from behind, beneath, him. A woman shrieked as he twisted around, just in time to see white linen falling from her arms. Falling on the dirty wooden stairs, full of mud from the shoes of hundreds of servants rushing up and down here.

Glowering at him, the woman knelt, starting to gather them up again. Feeling his heart rush, he put away the basket with firewood on one of the steps before helping her. He murmured apologies as he handed them over, and she glared again.

“Why did you stop?” she demanded. It was an unspoken rule among the staff that you never stopped inside the staircases, and Rus and his brother had been here long enough – two years – that they should know that very well. “Those were for His Highness’ room!”

 _Shit_. “Can’t you change them?”

Grumbling, she pressed the last linens against her chest. The white fabric was spotted with brown and yellow. “Don’t have much choice now, do I?”

He only smiled nervously, placatingly, as she turned around, hurrying back downstairs. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his basket again and continued his trek upstairs, out into the main parts of the castle. If she told anyone it was his fault, he’d be in so much trouble, and with all right. With that thought lingering in his mind, he knelt before yet another fireplace, loading the fire up again. In the winter, every fireplace in the castle had to be kept burning, and there was one in almost every room. Otherwise it’d be inhabitable between the stone walls.

Standing up again, he brushed some splinters off his black jacket, which he wore over a beige shirt and a pair of brown trousers. It creaked behind him, and one of the well-dressed ladies-in-waiting stuck in her head between the white-painted doors. Rus immediately sank into a bow.

“You,” she said. “Get the fires started in His Highness’ chambers. The carriage has been sighted, so _hurry up_.” The master of the castle had been spending the past months in the capital, at his royal father’s court.

As his eyes widened, he nodded. “Immediately, my lady.”

With another call for him to get busy, she disappeared. Picking up the basket again, Rus swallowed as he hurried first downstairs, then out on the yard. The wind was freezing, and he shivered violently as he waded through the snow toward the wood shed. His shoes and trousers became moist, and his teeth chattered as he filled his basket to the brim again. He cast a nervous glance toward the north western tower: the crown prince’s home. The entire castle belonged to him, of course, but that was his private chambers.

The thought of going in there made unease creep up his spine, and he didn’t know why. The heir to the throne was generally known for being kind, and the people loved him. They _longed_ for the day he’d take over the throne from his father. Yet…

There was something about him that made Rus uncomfortable. Something about the way he looked at him, during the few occasions they’d been in the same room. It was stupid. Even Blue thought he was overreacting. As he’d said: “Do you have any reason to dislike His Highness?” and no, no he didn’t. Just a feeling.

Groaning as he lifted the basket, he hurried over the courtyard. The guards immediately let him inside, recognizing him as one of the general labourers. He simply did what he was assigned to do, all of it hard physical work, without any specific set of skills. He stopped for a moment as he stepped into the entrance hall. Then he hurried upstairs, toward the bedroom. That seemed like the most logical place to start, especially since it was the farthest away.

When he stepped inside, his breath hitched. The walls were full of hand-painted roses on a blue background and the ceiling was infinitely high. Crystal chandeliers glimmered up there, illuminated by hundreds of candles. An enormous fireplace stood tall by the right wall, surrounded by a midnight blue set of couches and armchairs. And the bed in the middle of the opposite wall, which was covered by orange blankets, was enormous: at _least_ as wide as he was tall. Seemed like the maid had had time to change them anyway. Imagine _living_ like this. A far cry from the poor orphanage he and Blue had grown up in.

Inhaling sharply, he got to work. It was a relief to let the wood down on the floor, and he rolled his shoulders as he sank down on his knees. As he began stapling up the firewood, he swore. It had rained the day before, until it had turned into a blizzard, and it seemed as though the water somehow had found its way down the chimney. The fireplace was damp. Sighing, he fished up the tinderbox from his pocket and set to work.

It took a couple tries before he got a spark, and it quickly died out. His fingers ached once the first flames finally licked the wood. Just as it did, and he smiled in relief, the door squeaked behind him. Rus twisted around, his soul skipping a beat. His eyes widened. In the doorway, flanked by a guard and two maids, stood Prince Papyrus himself, clothed in an orange and blue suit and wearing a coat edged with black fur.

Flying to his feet, he fell into a deep bow. “Your- Your Highness,” he began, unsure what to say. “I was just-”

Undoubtedly, he was supposed to be out of here by now. Servants weren’t to be seen, after all, and certainly not servants of his calibre.

The prince smiled, looking both delighted and amused at once. “Thank you… Rus, is it? It’s wonderful to be greeted by a warm fire.”

He stepped into the room, and his followers did the same. One of the maids helped him off with his coat and put it inside the wardrobe nearby. Rus gaped. He knew his name? _How?_ Prince Papyrus saw his stricken expression and chuckled, smiling kindly. “I make a point of knowing the names of everyone who serves me. It is the least I can do, is it not?” Before Rus could work out whether he was supposed to answer or not, he turned to the maids and guard. “You may leave, my friends.”

They immediately did, bowing and obeying without a word. Rus quickly bowed down to clean up his mess, so he could do the same. The sun was setting outside of the window, the sky painted in pastels, and his workday was soon over anyway. But Prince Papyrus sank down into one of the armchairs next to him, watching him quietly.

After a few moments of feeling the other’s eyes follow him, Rus nervously asked, “Your Highness?”

The prince hummed, blinking. “Oh! I am sorry, but outside of my own family I have never seen another skeleton before – except for you. Do you have any family, Rus?”

“A brother, Your Highness,” he replied hesitantly. It was an innocent enough question, but the prince’s eyes were so bright as he stared at him, and his smile was a bit too appreciative for Rus’ comfort. “Our parents died in the plague when we were very young, so I don’t know if there is anyone else.”

“I am sorry.” Prince Papyrus pointed at the armchair next to his own. They stood mere centimetres away from each other. “You must excuse my forwardness, but won’t you sit down so we can get to know each other? As I said, I have never before met a skeleton I was not related to.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Rus murmured as he moved over to the armchair before sinking down on the soft cushion. His stomach tickled at the sensation. So _comfortable_. He’d never before been in one of the finer pieces of furniture; he hadn’t dared to try them.

A hand settled on his knee. He stiffened before realizing what was happening and forcing himself to relax. Shooting the prince a nervous smile, he clenched the fabric of his jacket in his fists. The other beamed back at him.

“You are very pretty, Rus,” he said. A blush lit up Rus’ cheek, even as horror settled in his stomach. “Say, you don’t happen to be married, do you? Or engaged?”

Rus swallowed unnoticeably, chuckling faintly. He’d like to believe he hid his discomfort well as he shook his head. “Thank you, Your Highness. I am not.”

“Excellent!” Prince Papyrus’ smile widened, and his fingers scraped against Rus’ leg before it slid up along his side. “If you don’t mind, you will dine with me – I am otherwise eating alone – and tonight you will join me in bed.”

 _If you don’t mind_. He held in a dry chuckle. He’d seen what could happen to the servants who dared refuse their masters. And this was the _Crown Prince_. Like he had a choice. He smiled, forcing himself to relax into the other’s hand.

“I’d be honoured, Your Highness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Rus here hasn't had sex before, so Pap's his first time  
> At least he's gentle


	7. Cuteness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Blue knows he's cute. Adorable, even. Yes, thank you, he knows

The bell above the white-painted door tinkled as Blue slid it open. Warmth washed over him as he stepped over the threshold and he quickly closed the door behind him, so it wouldn’t slip out. Muffet’s was always warm, so that her spiderlings wouldn’t get exposed to the extreme chill of their small town. The café was full of people, sitting around round tables between the pink-painted walls and the glass counter, in which pastries were showcased. At the end of it, there’s a wooden part of it with bar chairs, and Blue rolled his eyes as he saw his brother sitting there, leaning heavily on the counter and chatting with Muffet.

“Papy!” he called out, marching up to the counter. He waved at Dogamy and Dogaressa, and at Bonnie, the leader of the Lapine Unit, as he made his way past them.

Jerking in surprise, Stretch looked up. His eyes were half-lidded as he waved lazily. “Oh, hey, bro.”

“You should’ve been home a fucking hour ago, Papyrus,” he complained, leaning on the counter. Stretch frowned at his swear, but that was okay. He was squeamish like that, didn’t like swearing at all. Now, that he could see _Muffet_ narrow her eyes, that was something else. Though it might be because something else? “Dinner is cold, and Twist is coming over in _twenty damn minutes_.”

“ _Sans_ ,” Muffet interrupted. “You shouldn’t swear, it isn’t nice.”

Yep. It was the swearing. Holding in a sigh, Blue smiled sweetly and turned to her. “Muffet, I am twenty-one years old. I think I’m old enough, don’t you?”

The look on her face was enough answer. No. Someone like _Sans_ shouldn’t swear, ever, right? He glanced down at himself, at his jeans and hoodie with a panda-face on. _Cute_ , right. Smiling brightly at her, he grabbed his brother’s arm. “Come on, Papy. I’ll carry you if I have to.”

That got Stretch on his feet. Blue would, and with Stretch being so much taller than him, it would get uncomfortable quickly if Blue wasn’t careful. And they both knew Blue rarely was when he was annoyed. Giving Muffet a last smile, he pulled Stretch outside. When the door closed behind them, Stretch smiled apologetically at him.

“Sorry ‘bout her, Sans. Want me to talk with her?”

“No,” he sighed. “It wouldn’t do anything good. I’m _cute_ , you know that. _So_ _fucking cute_.”

Stretch patted his head compassionately. “So, you mentioned Twist?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot!”

* * *

“Blue, you’re out of corn!” Razz’s voice came from inside the kitchen. Stopping mid-step, Blue sighed. He _knew_ he had forgotten something. He peeked into the other room to throw Razz the apron he’d just been getting from the laundry. His friend caught it without issue.

“Dammit,” he said. “I’ll rush over to the shop and get some. Anything else we need?”

As he pulled the apron over his head, Razz considered it. “Not for this, but if you don’t mind, pick up some bread I can bring home. The food transports are late again. I’ll pay you back, obviously.”

Blue nodded. “Sure!”

He’d been happy to pay, but Razz wouldn’t let him. It wasn’t too long ago he’d refused to buy food to bring home from the Taleverses at all. Prideful bastard. Waving goodbye, Blue hurried outside, slamming the front door closed behind him.

Rushing through Snowdin didn’t take long. His feet smattered against the snow-covered street, his jeans jacket fluttering behind him, before he came to an abrupt stop in front of the Shop. When he stepped inside, Dogamy’s smile immediately greeted him from behind the counter. Dogaressa and their puppies were there too. As soon as they saw him, the puppies flocked around Blue. He laughed, ruffling their fur as he made his way through the ocean of dog monsters toward the counter.

“Hi!” he greeted happily. “I forgot to buy corn earlier, and Razz wants some bread. As much as possible, please.”

“Sure thing, kiddo!” Dogamy said, ducking into the pantry behind the counter. Blue resisted the urge to roll his eyes at being called a kid. Dogamy had been calling him that since he was a toddler, he couldn’t really blame him, he supposed.

“Snas! Snas!” one of the puppies chanted, holding up her arms and jumping in place. “Rocket!” They didn’t quite understand what a rocket was, but that was what Blue called it, so she did too. Chuckling, Blue hoisted her up in the air. The pup shrieked in joy.

“Aw,” Dogaressa cooed. Her dark eyes glittered. “You’re so cute.”

Blue twitched, is grin wavering for a moment.

He knew.

* * *

Leaning against the wooden counter, Blue grinned as Grillby handed him another cocktail, this one pink with a small umbrella. He poured half of it into his mouth while the bartender watched in amusement, his flames flickering toward the ceiling. Grillby’s was a fancy bar, with polished wooden tables and dark-painted walls. Quite the contrast to its owner who, while still elegant, fancied pastel blue suits. Firelings hung around the room, serving customers and chatting with each other in Flame.

Blue drank the rest of the sweet-tasting drink before slamming the glass down on the counter. The world spun lightly. Or no, tilted might be more accurate. “Told you I could drink more than you,” he told the Aaron sitting next to him, who looked a bit green from drinking too much.

“…You should leave,” Grillby told the Aaron, staring intently at him. “…I don’t want vomit on my floor.”

At first it looked like he might protest, but then he slammed a hand over his mouth and rushed toward the bathrooms. Now when they were on the Surface, Grillby’s had those, for the rare human customers’ benefits. It had proven quite useful also for monsters during late nights.

Giggling, Blue turned toward his friend. “They never learn,” he chuckled before hiccupping. “’Tiny, adorable Blue can’t drink.’ Another, please?”

“…Rough day?” Grillby asked, curious, as he began mixing liquids with practiced movements. Since it was alcohol, there was no danger for him if he spilled some. He did sell water bottles nowadays, but he didn’t quite like handling even those.

Huffing, Blue shrugged. “The usual. I’m almost through university, and _twenty-six_ , and _yet_ people treat me like I’m a _godsdamned child_. Not the humans, actually. They’re a lot better at this: probably because they have no idea whether I look young or not. But even Alphys doesn’t seem to realize I’m not a fucking child. Also we need money, but that’s at least only temporary.”

“…That’s rough. Here,” the elemental said, handing him yet another glass. A fancy margarita glass with a yellow liquid in. “…My offer is still standing.”

Yeah, to work part-time as a bartender here. Grillby would pay well, and Blue couldn’t deny it would be good to have some more money, especially now when both he and his brother were studying. The only question was whether he had time. “I’m considering it,” he promised. Grillby was his best friend after all, even more than Alphys and Razz, so working for him seemed fun.

The bell rang in the back of the room, signalling someone had entered. A gasp came from the back of the room as Blue smutted on his new drink.

“Sans!” a familiar voice called out. When Blue turned around it was Bonnie who had spoken. “You shouldn’t drink!”

Without a word, Grillby put down a bottle of whisky next to Blue’s arm. Blue sent him a grateful glance, reaching out to uncork it. Stars. He had never been happier to have Grillby as a friend. He lifted the bottle to his mouth, and drank.

* * *

The next morning, Blue’s head throbbed violently as he woke up. Groaning, he rolled over, relieved to see a headache pill and a glass of water on the bedtable. His brother was the best. Just as he swallowed, his phone started vibrating. As he picked it up, the light making his eyes hurt, he found he had at least four missed calls from Razz. He yawned as he picked up. “Y’ello?” His voice slurred slightly, mixing up his words.

“Fucking finally, lazyass,” Razz’s voice came through. “It’s eleven AM.”

“S’rry.” Blue rubbed his eyes with his wrist. “What izzit?”

“You called me at two AM demanding I go shopping with you in our ‘Fellverse stores’, as you called them?” Razz sounded highly confused. Likely he had an eyebrow raised as he spoke, and his forehead wrinkled. “Something about being cute? You do realize our fashion isn’t exactly ideal for looking sweet, right?”

Blue’s mouth formed an _O_ as he stared at the dark blue wall of his bedroom. He couldn’t remember any of this, but- “That’s a brilliant idea!” He winced at his own loudness.

“It’s your fucking idea?”

“Drunk me’s,” Blue corrected, “and drunk me’s a _genius_. When are you free?”

“Saturday?” Razz still sounded just as confused, though some amusement had crept into his tone.

“See you then,” Blue chirped, quieter this time. A bewildered Razz returned the greeting. As he exited the call, Blue grinned, ignoring the headache in favour of pulling up some sites that sold Fell-style clothing.

To _hell_ with being cute.

He couldn’t wait to see Muffet’s reaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Lucia, Feast of Light!


	8. The Bye Bye Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: gonna be indulgent and say: "Now, I know you’re not a hugger, but if you were? I would wrap myself around you like a leather jacket mode of love!" with cherryblossom please :^>

Life had never been easy on Red. Despite the privileges of his birth, being the son of the Royal Scientist and the King’s most trusted advisor, he had lived a reality Papyrus never could understand. From the day he was out of stripes, he’d been fearing for his life, and when Edge grew up as well, that fear had been extended to him. The power struggles of Underfell was vicious and they both had fought and killed not only for their lives, but for their positions in their kingdom, and, despite that no one liked to admit it, even out of pure bloodlust.

Kind touches were a rarity in the Fellverses. There were few people who could be trusted, and even then, you never truly knew if they were going to stab you in the back. At least, that was his understanding of it. So it wasn’t surprising none of the Fells were particularly touchy; even if Edge, ever since he started dating Stretch, had seemed to soak it up like a sponge.

So despite being extremely physical, Papyrus was careful not to overstep. He didn’t touch his boyfriend without permission, and he watched out for signs of discomfort. Which was why, he assumed, Red was comfortable enough to lean against his side as they leaned in the couch, watching yet another of those dumb horror movies humans liked to make so much. This one was called _The Bye Bye Man_ and when Red had brought home a film with that stupid a title, they obviously had had no other choice than to watch it.

He grinned as the characters held a séance, and one of them, a brown-haired girl, suddenly started chanting “ _Don’t say it don’t think it don’t say it don’t think it_.” Stars, that’s now how ghosts worked! Nonetheless, he held no doubt that if Sans had been here, he would’ve been terrified out of his mind by this. Same applied to Stretch, and even Blue would’ve been at least a bit frightened. They all were scared by such weird things. Red guffawed as a character said it: “ _The Bye Bye Man_.” Everything went dark. They both took another shot, the alcohol burning pleasantly in his throat.

“Oh, oh man, Creampuff,” Red _giggled_ , leaning more into his side. One of Papyrus’ arms rested over the couch armrest, and the other was in the popcorn bowl. “Who th’ fuck named tha’ movie? Who thought tha’s a good name for an evil spirit or whatever?”

“Don’t be mean, Cherry,” Papyrus said, though his voice was amused. “I am certain they did their best.”

“Then their best ain’t very good, is it?”

Humming, Papyrus had to nod. “True. It really isn’t. Popcorn?”

Tilting his head up, Red gaped. His gold tooth gleamed in the light from the television. The room was dark, with no other source of light, and outside, it was cloudy. Snowflakes slowly fell from the coal black sky, putting a thin layer of white on the grass in the garden. He snorted, put obediently dropped a handful into the other’s mouth.

Eventually, the movie ran toward its end. The grandfather clock by the wall rang, announcing the arrival of midnight. Red gasped mockingly. “Oh no. Th’ witching hour. We’re gonna die. Think th’ Bye Bye Man’s gonna come an’ kill us, sweetheart?”

“Probably,” he agreed, running a hand over the other’s head. Red didn’t even tense! “We’ve been thinking about him all night, after all.” Red’s eyes glittered as the credits began to run and he twisted around in his seat, and Papyrus couldn’t help but smile as he regarded the other. Everything about him screamed unguardedness, love, _trust_. It was amazing, and Papyrus would never stop being grateful Red felt he could trust him like that. Loving was much easier than trusting, after all.

He lifted his hand toward Red, and when the other didn’t react, he ran it over Red’s bare arm. He was only wearing a pair of his most comfortable jeans and a black tank top, revealing his clavicle and scapulae. _Pretty_. Red watched him with an eyebrow raised, a smile tugging at his mouth.

As he met his gaze, Papyrus’ soul flipped. Angel, he loved this skeleton so much.

“Now I know you’re not a hugger, but if you were?” he said, partially joking, partially completely serious. “I would wrap myself around like a leather jacket made of love!”

Red stared at him for a few moments before breaking out into laughter. “Aw, Pap, that’s so _cheesy_.” He was still chuckling, his chest shaking with each breath, as he seemed to consider here. Eventually, slowly, he held out his arms, amusement shining in his eyes. “C’mere an’ be my new jacket then, darling.”

Papyrus was more than happy to oblige.


	9. Bloodthirst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edgelord Supreme: Hm. Razz in law school, far away from family and most monsters, and his LV starts acting up and "fuck fuck fuck not *now* he has classes and midterms are in two days this is not the *time*"
> 
> Warnings: violence, LV-issues, losing control of oneself, implied rough sex
> 
> 16+

The black teacup cracked in his hand. Razz hissed as hot camomile tea spilled out through the crack, over his fingers, but he didn’t let go. Golden tea stained his claws and he closed his eyes, focusing on the pain in an attempt to ground himself.

_Pain. Blood. Hurt, kill, damage, injure, **kill-**_

With a gasp, he let go of it. His claws dug into his palms as he hurried over to the sink, pouring ice cold water over his phalanges. Crimson marrow washed away with the water. The sun shone outside the kitchen window, bright and _annoying_ , and Razz fought the urge to throw a bone attack toward the window. He couldn’t stop the sun _what the fuck Razz_ , he admonished himself as he exhaled slowly. His eye flickered wildly purple as he teleported into his wardrobe to choose a tie. He ignored the tinge of shame at his laziness.

His hands shook as he grasped an indigo tie, putting it around his neck. He glanced up at his wristwatch – he always dressed before breakfast, except for the ties. It was in silver and even showed moon phases: a gift from his brother. 06:30. His first lecture – Advanced Interpretation: Law and Language – was in half an hour. Razz growled as a drop of marrow stained his white shirt collar. _No_. Without a second thought, he grabbed the stained collar. The ripping sound was loud in the quiet wardrobe.

Staring at the piece of fabric in his hand, Razz’s breath hitched. _Come on he couldn’t lose control now of all times_. Quickly, he unbuttoned his dress shirt, throwing it into the corner. The dress shirts hanging on racks turned purple as his magic surged. One of them was red.

 _Blood blood blood blood **kill**_ -

His teeth chattered as he sank down along the cold wall. Every bone in his body rattled with the force of his trembles, with the force needed to keep himself in control. _Destroy_. “Calm down, Sans,” he muttered angrily. His sockets were wide as he ducked his head against his legs. _Kill_. “You’re the Malicious Sans. You’re better than this.”

His _last_ midterms were this week he didn’t have time for this. They had to be perfect. His breaths came in short gasps as he fumbled with the phone in his back-pocket, bringing it up. Somehow, he managed to send away a few mails to let his professors and the few friends/acquaintances he’d made that he’d be absent today. His movements were stiff as he put it back into his pocket and stripped out of the remains of his suit before changing into his training clothes: things. They didn’t matter if they got damaged. Black sweatpants and a plum tank top. Nothing restrictive.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Bloodthirst flared with every breath he took, and he bit his teeth so hard together it hurt. With his last remaining concentration, he teleported himself to the apartment complex’s gym. He could only pray to the Angel there would be no humans there now.

Relief washed over him when he realized there wasn’t. The huge, light room with its training equipment and yoga mats was empty. Restless energy surged, and he threw himself at the sandbag, hit until his bare fists ached, Razz tried to close out the images in his skull. _Broken bones. Bleeding monsters on their knees before him begging for his mercy. Crying. The smell of dust in the air. Intoxicating fresh LV rushing through him as he sliced their heads right off. **Power**_.

Eventually, panting hard, he sank to his knees. His knuckles were bloody, and marrow dripped down his shaking arms as he reached out for his phone. It laid on the floor, abandoned as he tried to work off the LV. The melodic beeping of the buttons grated on his ears as he tapped in a number. He didn’t have any of his friends as contacts. It was safest to just remember the numbers.

The other picked up after three tones. “Yes?”

Swallowing his pride, Razz whispered, “I need help. My LV- I can’t-” His voice broke. “My midterms are soon I don’t have _time_ to go mad for more.” He didn’t want to whisper he wanted to _scream_ , _demand_ he came here, wanted to _beat him into a pulp, kill him-_

Edge was quiet for a few moments. “I’ll be right there. In your bedroom. I’ll let you know when I’ve arrived. _Don’t do anything stupid_.”

“Like I-” The call ended before he could spit his offence on Edge. With all gentleness he could summon, which wasn’t a lot, he put the phone down again on a table. It thudded loudly. It would be hours yet until Edge actually could be here. With a yell, he twisted around, kicking the sandbag. It tore of its rope, crashing into a treadmill a few meters away.

He was going to owe the landlord _so much money_ when this was over.

* * *

When his phone beeped the next time, he didn’t know how much time had passed. Not enough for people to come home from their jobs, luckily. Even if he’d been in control enough to not kill on sight, this would in no way be good for human-monster relationships. Sand from the sandbags filled the cuts in his arms and hands and sweat dripped down on the screen as he looked on it. A text. _I’m here. Your bedroom. Now._

Only in the back of his mind did he remember it’s Edge, his not-boyfriend, but he shortcutted there immediately anyway. As soon as red eyelights, a _scarred_ socket, appeared, staring at him, a bone attack was ready in his hand.

“None of that, asshole,” Edge grunted. Without fear, at least what Razz could see, he marched up to him and grabbed his head. Their teeth clacked loudly as he mashed them together. Eyes widening, Razz dispelled the attack out of pure shock. But as a tongue prodded at his teeth, he growled, pushing forward. His stomach dropped as they fell before the bed mattress bounced them, but he paid it no mind as he forced his tongue into the other’s mouth, fighting for dominance. Edge smirked into the kiss, and didn’t give in. When they parted, gasping for air, his grin widened. “Better. Get it out, _love_.”

Razz growled, raking his claws over the other’s bare ribs as he went down for another kiss.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Razz stroked his fingertips over Edge’s scratched ribs. A few drops of marrow escaped the scratches. His soul was finally beating calmly in his chest, and the bloodthirst was down at, well, not zero. It never quite was. But one, perhaps. One and a half. “Thank you,” he mumbled, glancing up to meet Edge’s eyes before quickly averting them. Shame filled him, tinting his cheeks purple. He should be better than this, do better than losing control like that to his more feral instincts.

Huffing, Edge took his jaw between his fingers, surprisingly gentle. Razz bit down as his face was tilted up so he looked Edge into the eyes. The other’s eyelights were soft, fuzzed. Satisfied. “Don’t be stupid, of course I’m here to help. And stop with your self-deprecating thoughts. It’s unavoidable.”

“It _shouldn’t be_ ,” Razz exclaimed before ducking his head again, raising his shoulders. Tears of frustration filled his sockets and he angrily blinked them away. “I _hate this_. I _hate_ losing control and I _hate_ being so _helpless_.”

“I know. I do too.” Edge sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “But it is what it is.”

He shifted, sitting up in the bed. Razz watched him move, and both shame and pleasure filled him in equal amounts at seeing how he’d scratched him. Edge pulled on his trousers, which were carefully folded by Razz’s chest of drawers. He must’ve been bareboned when Razz arrived yesterday. It was all a blur, honestly. He stared meaningfully at Razz until he jerked. _Oh_.

His training outfit was in pieces on the floor. He glanced at it before stepping into his wardrobe again. He’d clean it up later, once Edge had left. Surely he couldn’t stay for long: it was a workday and the Embassy always needed him. After putting on a pair of black jeans and a pullover, he returned back out. As he saw the torn shirt in the corner of his wardrobe, though, he froze.

“Edge,” he said, steeling yourself. Edge hummed to show he was listening. “I may need some assistance from the Embassy to pay for the destruction I caused to the gym.”

Edge raised an eyebrow. “Well, I am certain I can arrange that.” The Embassy did have special funds for Fellverse damage. Edge’s smile softened and he came up to Razz to throw an arm over his shoulder, holding him against his side. Razz stiffened for a moment but didn’t pull away. Eventually he sighed, leaning into it.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Always.” Edge’s voice was soft.

Razz allowed himself to indulge for a mere moment before he straightened, brushing off his clothes. He met the other’s eyes, smiling politely. “Where are my manners? Apologies. Would you like some tea?”

“No,” Edge sighed, watching him closely. “I do need to get back to Ebott, and my plane is waiting. I will need to work late now.”

Razz nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare.” Edge narrowed his eyes, glaring at him. He crossed his arms. “I’m always here to help you when you need it. Don’t you dare apologize for that.”

The corner of Razz’s mouth twitched, and he nodded again. After leaning down to kiss him, Edge stepped past him, and Razz turned around. After glancing at him again, Edge left, and soon he heard the front door close.

He sank down on the chair in front of his writing desk, pulling open one of the drawers. Thoughts were swimming in his head, but he ignored them. Now when he’d missed a full day, Razz had studying to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my post-pacifist Razz is an attorney!


	10. A Couple Reasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of last chapter, kinda  
> EDIT: I did a dumb. This is a continuation of NEXT chapter, whoops  
> Warnings for implied death, threats, injury  
> Pirate AU

There was a ship at the horizon. Not unusual by itself, seeing how this was a common trade route, but this ship in particular was coming toward them in high speeds. At the top of the lithe ship’s mast, the Jolly Roger trashed in the wind. And not any Jolly Roger. The skull had an eyepatch covering its right eye: the flag of _the Schadenfreude_. One of the most infamous ships to sail the seven seas, known for its mercilessness. There was nearly never a single survivor from their raids. Or what people _believed_ to be their raids. Since there was no one to confirm it, it was impossible to say for sure.

Edge rested his gloved hands on the railing as he watched the ship. The crew rushed around behind him, preparing for battle. Their footsteps and the jingling of swords were loud on the sea, where every other noise came from the waves below. The tailcoats of his black and navy blue uniform fluttered behind him in the wind, and he had a tricorn hat on his head. By his waist, both a gun and a sword were strapped. There was no doubt that he’d have to use them now.

Throwing a glance at his own ship, he scoffed. The _Schadenfreude_ ‘s crew were going to attack, but they were not going to go victorious out of that battle. As though Edge was going to allow them to end everything he had worked so hard for. Lied, fought, _killed_ for. His own ship in His Majesty’s navy. A name that wouldn’t be forgotten.

The salt-tasting air hit his face as he turned around, facing the crew. _His_ crew. Beneath his boots, the floorboards creaked. “We’ll fight,” he said once he had their attention, “and we’ll win. No filthy pirates will defeat _us_.”

As they roared their agreement, he nodded sharply. “Get ready.” He turned around, watching the _Schadenfreude_ grow bigger and bigger. The ship was small but gracious. A speedster, rather than a brawler like his own ship. They’d dance around them. “We’ve got a fight to win.”

* * *

Twist strolled over the deck, grinning from ear to ear. Or, well, from where his ear should’ve been had he had them, to the other place his ear should’ve been had he had them. Kneeling before him were the crewmembers of this royal ship in all their fancy uniforms. He had to admit, at least the navy had _style_. Most of them glared as they watched him stroll past, though a few averted their eyes. Some angry, some fearful. He hummed to himself. Maybe someone would be willing to desert the navy. Usually, there was someone. If the captain would allow it, that is.

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards. Not being captain was both strange and quite neat. At least he wasn’t responsible for everyone’s wellbeing anymore, which probably was for the best. He wasn’t the brightest person around, after all.

Twirling his sword in his hand, he reached out and wiped the flat side off against one of the officers’ coats. They glared viciously at him, and he replied with a grin. Then he reached the end of the line. Reached the captain. He raised an eyebrow. A skeleton, huh? That was unusual. Blood was splattered over their face, but he could still easily make out the vicious scars running over his right eye. Far more elegant than his own cracks.

“Well, well,” he murmured, kneeling down before the tied-up captain. They glared at him, ruby-red eyelights gleaming with fury. Twist chuckled. “Aw, don’t look so mad, darling. Ya didn’ stand a chance against us. Though ya fought well, took out _multiple_ o’ our men. How rude.” He sighed dramatically. “Suppose I can’t blame ya, eh?”

He took the captain’s jaw between his hands, tilting his head. A throaty growl escaped the other through the gag. “Wow, ya don’t look too much unlike th’ cap’n. An’ ya gotta be nobility, if yer in charge here. Perhaps yer related.”

The captain blinked, confusion evident on his face. Probably didn’t understand a word Twist had just said. Ah well.. Standing up again, he waved at one of his own crewmates. “Go get th’ cap’n, will ya?”

She saluted lazily before venturing under deck. Twist tapped his boot against the deck as he waited and stuck his hands into the pockets of his brown leather coat. His boots were leather as well and reached him almost all the way up to his knees, and his shirt had more buttons undone than most would call proper. But he had never been proper, not once in his life. Not back at the Spider’s tavern, not out on the seas.

When Cash stepped outside into the sunshine again, he smiled. Golden rings gleamed on the other’s fingers and a golden chain hung around his neck. Their sources had been correct, then. There were treasures being _subtly_ transported at this single navy ship. How idiotic. Cash looked as handsome as ever, and far more so than when they’d… kidnapped, or rescued – Twist still wasn’t entirely certain which word was appropriate, seeing how Cash was the one to hire them to kidnap him – him from his late husband’s ship.

He’d certainly taken to piracy well. Even the fashion, in his dark purple coat, black boots and black shirt and trousers. And the rapier that hung in an elegantly carved scabbard by his waist.

“Cap’n.” Twist nodded, lifting his fingers to the brim of his tricorn hat. His grin never wavered. “Lookin’ good in all tha’ gold.” And in the title. Cash always seemed to stand straighter when someone used his new title. One he had _earned_ , rather than been born with. When the crew, a year after Cash had boarded Twist’s ship, had wanted to vote for a new captain, Cash had won with six votes and Twist had been happy to step down to the position of quartermaster. They were a democracy after all. One of the great joys of piracy.

“What do you want, Twist?” He didn’t look impressed. Probably not too happy with being pulled away from their new treasures before he could count them all. If there was one great love in Cash’s life, it was keeping track of his finances.

Twist pointed at the navy captain. “Looks like ya. Yer related or sumthin’?”

As Cash stepped into his view, the captain’s eyes widened. Recognition flashed by. Even if they weren’t family, he undoubtedly knew who Cash was, though he didn’t doubt most of rank did, with how close Cash’s family were with the royals. Basically royalty themselves, honestly. He’d been amusing to have around during his first time on the ship, before he got used to not being a lord all high and mighty anymore.

Tapping his finger against the pommel of his rapier, Cash stepped up in front of the captain, staring down at him in distaste. He shook his head. “Never seen him before.” He smiled sharply. “But I’m intrigued. I should’ve known about someone so similar to me among the nobility.” Bowing down, he pulled the gag out of his mouth. “What is your name, captain?”

The captain spat on the ground, staying silent. A cruel smile curled on Cash’s face and he gestured for Twist to come forth. At his own captain’s command, he knelt and pressed a claw in-between the vertebrae at his neck, curling them to hit the most sensitive places. A pained grunt escaped the captain, though stayed silent otherwise. Impressive. “Now now, cap’n. Be polite.”

When nothing happened, he glanced up at Cash, who nodded. With a deep sigh, Twist squeezed the vertebrae as he unsheathed the knife strapped to his leg. He held it up for the captain. “Listen ‘ere. I don’t particularly care fer hurtin’ people who can’t fight back but I will if ya won’t cooperate. Who’s it gonna hurt if ya tell us yer name anyway? Yer a dead man no matter what ya do: th’ question is if yer gonna go painlessly or no.”

The captain gritted his teeth for a few more seconds before grunting out, “Edge. Edge Chevantelle.”

“How strange,” Cash mused. He tilted his head, staring down at the captain. Without warning, he twisted around to face their crew. “Move the treasures over to the _Schaudenfraude_. Twist-” He looked over his shoulder. “-take the captain over to our ship. Kill everyone else. I’m going to go search his cabin.”

“Aye, aye.” Twist saluted lazily, ignoring the horrified protests spilling from the captain as he pulled him up on his feet. Due to being so tied up, the captain couldn’t do much more than follow. “If it ain’t yer lucky day, cap’n. Ya get ta live.”

“Don’t you _dare-_ ”

Humming cheerfully, Twist pulled him toward the board put out between their two ships. “O’ course I dare, who’s gonna stop us? God? He abandoned this world a long time ago. Jus’ be happy yer alive, sweetheart.”

* * *

Pacing the small cabin he’d been thrown into, Edge glared at everything. It was incredibly sparse, likely an unused storage cabin, with only a hammock rolled up in the corner and about three meters for him to move. For whatever reason, the pirate had asked him if he was claustrophobic before throwing him in here, and he wasn’t sure whether that spoke for them or not. Not that it much mattered: one minor act of concern didn’t chance the fact that they had slaughtered his crew and kidnapped him. Destroyed everything he’d worked for.

Twisting around, he punched the wall. The wood scratched his knuckles as pain flashed up his arm. He leaned his forehead against it, taking a deep breath. Fucking hell. He still didn’t know why he was alive at all. In a way, he was grateful, but the uncertainty made nausea rise in his throat.

He straightened, stiff as a board, as a key turned in the door. For a moment, he considered pouncing whoever it was, but he shook his head at himself. Stupid idea. When it opened, his eyes widened. In the opening, _yet_ another skeleton stood, grinning at him. Just like the pirate from before, he was taller than him, but also softer. Softer edges, more rounded, no sharp teeth. Their eyes were a mellow orange, and he was dressed sloppier than the other two, in nothing but a shirt, trousers, and boots.

“Well well,” the new pirate said, leaning one arm against the doorframe. “Aren’t you handsome. Always did like a man in uniform. The name’s Rus, and the captain wants to see you.”

 _Demands to see you_. Edge could read between the lines. It was one of the reasons he’d ever gotten this far in life, despite not being able to actually _read_ until well into his teens. Nodding stiffly, he stepped forward, clasping his hands behind his back. “Show the way.”

Rus gestured for him to follow, starting to make his way down the hallway. Though his movements were careless, Edge could sense how he kept an eye on him, how he was prepared in case he’d attack. But he wouldn’t. Not until it was the right time to do so. That was another reason he’d gotten his own ship.

“…brother and I found this the best place to go in life…” Rus rambled on as they made their way through the hallways. Other pirates stared in curiosity or outright leered at him. Edge’s shirt sleeves were stiff against his arms, red from dried blood. “…could’ve joined the navy but that’s just awful…”

He paid half a mind to the pirate before they reached a door on which _Office_ was written in cursive letters. He swallowed as Rus knocked on the door twice before opening it. Taking a deep breath, Edge stepped inside.

The cabin was a combined office and bedroom, as captain’s cabins often were. It had three big windows at the opposite side of the room, in front of which a huge writing desk stood. By the right wall, there was a huge bed, and the other side was covered in wardrobes. Leaned on the desk sat the captain, grinning sharply as he stepped in, and the pirate from before stood by the window, arms and legs crossed.

“You can leave, Rus,” the pirate captain said – _Cash Abrisey_ , the fucking brother of _Duke Plum_ who was believed to be _dead_ , said. In the corner of his eye he saw Rus nod before stepping back, and the door clicked closed behind him.

“What the fuck is going on?” Edge exclaimed, stalking forward. “You’re _dead_.”

The other pirate’s eyes widened and he stared at the captain in mock-horror. “What th’ _hell_ , Cash, are ya a _ghost_? Why didn’t ya tell me?”

Cash rolled his eyes, picking up a paper lying on his desk and waving it before Edge’s face. “You’re not in a position to ask questions. Sit down-” He gestured toward the chair on the opposite side of his desk. Edge stared at the paper, horror rising inside him. It came straight from his own cabin. “-and do tell me why this proof of identity is _forged_ , Captain _Chevantelle_. Did you really fake nobility? And get away with it?”

Edge sat, his stomach dropping.

“I’m quite impressed,” Cash admitted, turning the document toward himself again. “This is an excellent forgery. How unlucky for you I’m an expert. Now what is your real name?”

At first, Edge didn’t move. Thoughts rushed through his mind in ten knots. He clenched his fists in his lap. “Edge. That’s it.” Orphans found in alleyways didn’t have surnames.

Behind Cash, he could see pirate’s eyes soften marginally, and he glared at him. He didn’t want anyone’s pity, least of all a pirate’s. He’d worked and fought and done well in life despite everything. Even if he’d had to go the illegal way to do so.

Cash’s grin widened. “Well. I can’t exactly let you go, as you evidently recognized me and I don’t want my _dear_ brother to know I’m alive. But I _can_ offer you a place in my crew. You’re skilled. We could always use you.”

“Or we could throw ya overboard,” the pirate added. “Choice’s yers. Name’s Twist, by th’ way. ‘M th’ quartermaster. If yer staying, ya might want ta know that.”

Death or piracy. What a choice.

But there had always been one single thing that kept Edge alive. Kept both him and his twin brother, who was waiting back home, drinking and brawling while Edge provided for them, alive. As children, they’d both protected each other, but as they grew older, and it was evident Edge would go far, wouldn’t _let_ himself stay in the slums, he’d taken over. He had excellent self-preservation.

He exhaled, staring straight into Cash’s eyes. “If I can let my brother know I’m alive, I’ll accept your offer.”

Satisfaction gleamed in his new captain’s eyes as he pulled up a contract from one of the drawers, sliding it and a black quill over the table toward Edge. “That is acceptable.”

Twist grinned. “Welcome ta th’ _Schadenfreude_ , Edge. ‘M sure ya will enjoy yerself.”

He doubted it. With a flourish, he signed the contract. Signed away himself. What was that expression? Right. _A deal with the devil_.


	11. Take What You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for blood & murder. Pirate AU
> 
> The fearsome Captain Twist gets hired to kidnap a young lord. He's not quite getting what he expedcted

The ruckus was insufferable. Running footsteps, what must be bodies hitting the deck. The whining of the wind outside the window. Not to mention the yelling. Standing by his window, Cash watched the waves outside, watched the sharks circling as the water was stained red from blood. A body fell into the water, the sailor’s face distorted in fear, and he tilted his head as their eyes met for less than a second before the sharks were over the body, driven crazy by the presence of blood, and it was dragged into the deep. They were wearing the blue uniform of the royal fleet, although it was rather purple now, and so he didn’t give a damn about them.

Nothing else happened for a while. Growing bored, he turned around to pick up the book lying by his bed. Well,  _their_  bed. His and the  _captain’s_ , his  _dearest_  husband since three weeks, arranged by his beloved brother the duke. A bitter laugh escaped him. No, he didn’t give a fuck if the entire crew was slaughtered by the pirates they were fighting in this very moment, while he had been stashed in here, so he’d be  _safe_.

His gaze travelled over the book’s page, but they glazed over the words, which melted into a black smudge. Cash stuck his hand into his coat pocket, gripping the piece of cold metal in there. The corner of his mouth curled upwards.

Without him noticing, the stomping at the deck, his roof, had stopped. Blinking as he realized, he stood, and threw the book into the chest he’d already packed before locking it. He pulled the chain with the key over his head, until it hung securely around his neck. Leaning against the wall in the back of the cabin, Cash waited.

Minutes later, he heard footsteps outside the door. A loud thud was heard, and the door vibrated. He assumed someone had kicked it. Raising an eyebrow, he watched in mild curiosity. How many kicks would it take to break it up? And why on earth hadn’t they just taken the key? Finally, the door flew open with a loud crash, and he instinctively flinched.

A pirate stepped in. A skeleton, just like him. They wore a brown leather coat stained with blood and dust, high boots, and a shirt with enough buttons unmade that it was positively shameless. Pale purple dusted Cash’s cheeks as he quickly turned his eyes to the pirate’s face. One eye socket was cracked, and the other blazed gold. They grinned widely as they met his gaze.

“M’lord,” they said, tipping their tricorn hat. The feather stuck in the hat band rocked gently. “Yer gonna have ta come wi’ us, ‘m afraid.”

“Oh?” Cash replied. He stuck his hand into his pocket again, squeezing the short metal pole. His soul skipped a beat, and he wasn’t entirely sure whether it was excitement or worry. “Captain Twist, I assume?”

“Yup. Ya’ve heard a’ me?” The captain sounded oddly pleased, and their grin grew as Cash nodded. Repressing his own grin, Cash fished up the seal stamp from his pocket, throwing it to the pirate. He stumbled back, but managed to catch it before it hit the floor. He eyed it, blinking in surprise as he recognized the symbol on the stamp. The same one which had been on the letters telling him to attack, and where.

“I hired you,” Cash stated, unable to help the way the corner of his mouth curled upwards as the captain startled, staring at him. His mouth fell open. “My belongings are in the chests-” He motioned toward it with his thumb. “-so get me the  _fuck_  away from these people now.” He stepped forward, passing by the pirate. Just as he stepped past him, he stopped. “Oh. And I don’t want my  _esteemed_ brother to know about this, so rid me of the trouble of the crew letting him know, won’t you?”

A laugh of disbelief escaped the captain as he turned around. Cash paid him little mind as he made his way up on deck. There, kneeling among the rest of the captured crew, was his husband, bloodied and with a gun against his head. Taking a good look at him, Cash smirked. His soul pounded in glee as he stepped up to the other, crouching down in front of him. He leaned down, so his mouth was just by his ear.

“I’ve hated every moment of being married to you,” he whispered, “ _love_.”

Straightening, he turned to Captain Twist again, ignoring the look of betrayal of his soon-to-be-ex-husband’s face. “There’s chests of treasure in the lower decks. It’s mine; after all, I ought to inherit my husband’s belongings, don’t I? Those pretty stones were the reason I got married off to him, after all.”

“Sounds fair enough,” the captain said, a smile tugging on his mouth. “Wanna do the honours then, m’lord?”

After considering it, Cash shook his head. “Nah. I don’t want to get blood on my coat. It’s expensive.”

Without a second gaze, he turned his back to his husband. The pirate ship rocked gently by his own ship’s side, with the black Jolly Roger in the top of the mast. A gunshot. A gloating sort of joy flashed through him as the captain joined him, holding out his hand. Slowly, Cash took it, expecting it to be shook. Instead the captain grinned at him, bowing down to press a skeleton kiss to his knuckles. Cash raised an eyebrow. That was surprisingly polite.

“Welcome ta th’  _Schadenfreude_  then,” Captain Twist said mirthfully, slapping his back, hard. Cash let out a quiet groan. “I do hope ya will enjoy yer stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued in the chapter before (10). Whoops


	12. Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> UF Burgersans
> 
> Warning for smoking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is from last Valentine's Day

Humming in amusement, Sans regarded the cat in front of him. He rolled his cigarette between his fingers whilst blowing out a cloud of smoke through his teeth. The other didn’t even react as it hit his face. Then he held it out to Burgerpants.

“take ‘t,” he offered, grinning widely. “ya look like ya need ‘t, darlin’.”

Seemingly grateful, the cat grabbed it, immediately sticking it in his mouth and inhaling deeply. His trembling ceased slightly. Sans leaned back at the wall behind him. The back-alley was dark, and the only light came from his burning eyelights. The flickering crimson only seemed to make the other more nervous. He wouldn’t look at Sans. Odd, he thought. It was Burgerpants who had asked for them to meet here in the first place, so MTT wouldn’t find out. Mettaton wouldn’t ever go into such a dirty place, after all.

As Burgerpants kept fiddling with the cigarette, Sans chuckled deeply. He stared at the other in anticipation. “so? are ya gonna spit out what has got ya tremblin’ like a wet goddamn dog?”

He raised an eyebrow as his boyfriend’s ears pressed back against his head. Even though Burgerpants did grimace at being compared to a dog, which made Sans’ grin widen. But honestly. He hadn’t seen the other this nervous for a good while. What had brought this on? It was almost making him concerned.

Burgerpants inhaled deeply again, and then he exclaimed, “ _WillyoubemyValentine_?!”

Blinking in confusion, Sans stared at him. He absentmindedly fished up another cigarette and lit it as he tried to make sense of the quick words. Eventually, he gave up. “what? care ta repeat wha’ the fuck ya just said?”

“Will-“ Burgerpants’ voice broke, before he seemed to steel himself. “Will you be my Valentine?”

For a short moment, Sans stared at him. Surely he’d heard wrong.  _Valentine?_  As in Valentine’s Day-date? That sappy holiday his brother for some reason liked? Yet, with how the other stared at him, it didn’t seem like he had. He laughed quietly, exhaling another cloud of smoke. Who knew that Burgerpants would care about such a thing.

Shrugging, he grinned again. “sure. why th’ hell not.”

Apparently it wasn’t the answer the other had expected, because he jumped high and stared at Sans in disbelief. Sans just stared back, still amused.

“R-really?”

“i jus’ said ‘t, didn’ i?” he replied nonchalantly. Then he pressed himself up from the wall, stepping closer to Burgerpants until their faces were only centimetres away from each other. The cigarette was still between his teeth. Sans smirked as the other stopped breathing. “so what’ve ya got planned fer val’s day,  _sweetheart?_ ”


	13. Not My Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More UF Burgersans!
> 
> Still warning for smoking these two smoke too fucking much

Sans dangled with one of his legs where he sat on the desk in the MTT-Brand Burger Emporium. His other leg was folded, so his sneaker-clad foot rested on top of it, and he leaned against the wall as he puffed on his cigarette. Clouds of smoke rose toward the ceiling. He grinned as he watched his boyfriend fumble with a cigarette before lighting it and leaning at the desk. One of Burgerpants’ arms was bandaged after he got into a scuffle with rowdy customers, and the black and red MTT-cap on his head sat crooked. Three scars ran over one of his eyes, and by Asgore, that was _hot_.

Neither of them spoke as they as Sans discarded yet another cigarette, throwing it on the floor, and fished up a new one from his pocket. He snapped the lighter open, and a small flame flickered before he grinned, dropping it. It clattered as it hit the floor, sliding in beneath the desk. “Mind givin’ me some fire, sweetheart?”

Before Burgerpants could answer, he leaned forward, grabbing the other’s collar. Pulling them together, he pressed his own cigarette to Burgerpants’, and a red flush lit up Burgerpants’ cheeks. Cute. “Asshole,” Burgerpants muttered, but he smiled.

“O’ course,” Sans agreed, letting him go. He leaned back against the wall. The doorbell jingled as a potential customer stuck in their head, but when he turned to them, letting his eye blaze crimson, they yelped and disappeared.

Burgerpants raised an eyebrow. “The boss ain’t gonna be happy about that.”

“He can die mad,” Sans replied, shrugging. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, twisting it between his fingers as he grinned. “What’s he gonna do ‘bout it? I don’t work fer ‘im an’ my bro would kill ‘im if he tried ta hurt me, if I didn’t first.”

A dry laugh. “Fuck, I wish that was me.”

“Tha’s why ‘m here, darlin’. I’ll kick MTT’s ass if he’s difficult wi’ ya, how ‘bout that?”

Before Burgerpants could reply, though his tail swished and he pawed with his hands, the phone lying on the desk started buzzing. Sans’ gaze flickered down to it and then to his boyfriend’s face as Burgerpants picked it up and sighed dejectedly. He flipped it open before putting it to his ear.

“Boss!” he exclaimed with forced cheer before angry shouting came from the other side. His ears turned sideways and his tail pressed against the floor. A growl escaped Sans as he watched him try to get a word in, to no avail. Dropping his cigarette to the floor, he scooted over until he was sitting next to Burgerpants.

Without hesitating, he pulled down the collar of Burgerpants’ uniform shirt and summoned his tongue. Burgerpants’ eyes widened in surprise. Before he could even open his mouth, however, Sans bit down. Not too hard, but enough to elicit a gasp. He dragged his tongue over the bite, and grinned as he got a quiet moan in return. The phone had gone quiet.

Sans glanced up, and Burgerpants’ eyes had glazed over, though when he stopped, the cat glared down at him. He smirked, pressing a kiss to the other’s sensitive ear. “Want it?” he whispered. A quick but immediate nod was the only reply he got, and all he needed. He snatched the phone from Burgerpants’ hand.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” he drawled. “If ya’ve got any complaints, take ‘em up wi’ Papyrus. ‘S not my problem.”

“Excu-” Mettaton didn’t get the chance to finish before he ended the call, dropping the phone back down on the desk. Sans smiled as Burgerpants’ stared at him, something near awe in his eyes. Honestly, he  _really_  wanted to beat the robot up for his treatment of Burgerpants, but his brother would be very cross with him if he did. It never ended well for him when Papyrus was mad with him: that meant he wouldn’t stop Doomfanger from going into his room and getting hair all over his sock collection. Plus, though it wasn’t Sans’ biggest concern, the MTT Fanclub wouldn’t exactly appreciate it if he did.

He grabbed the other’s hand, pulling him closer. Smirked as Burgerpants gasped. “So. Now when tha’s over with, how do ya feel ‘bout going ta my place an’ havin’ some fun? I know a shortcut.”

“ _Fuck yes_.”


	14. Living Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, a third UF Burgersans!
> 
> Once again, smoking

The air was thick of smoke and smelled of alcohol. A bottle or two stood at the counter. Leaning backwards where he was sitting on it, Sans grinned widely at the cashier. He took the cigarette from his mouth and exhaled. Burgerpants snickered at the smoke trailing out from not only his mouth but also his noise and sockets. Cons of being a skeleton, Sans supposed.

“so boss don’ like smokin’ ya know,” he complained, rolling the cigarette between his fingers. The cat nodded in confirmation. “well, i did ‘t in th’ house yesterday. didn’ think he’d be back from patrol fer ‘nother half-hour. th’ fucker stole my stash ‘n’ sold ‘t. ‘n’ then forbade th’ shop keeper ta sell ‘em back. tha’ was th’  _fine stuff_.”

“That sucks, man,” Burgerpants commented, taking another swing from his bottle of whiskey. “Then again, life sucks. My own boss threatened to kick me out on the street if I didn’t work harder. Again.”

Of course he wasn’t actually allowed to drink during workhours, but with Sans there not even Mettaton would say anything. The robot did have a crush on his brother, after all. Sans smirked at the thought. It was quite useful, because MTT knew Papyrus would listen to him if he said not to date the robot. No matter if Papyrus liked him back or not; they trusted each other’s judgement.

Sans nodded.

“’t does. mtt does. but boss has got a point ‘bout me bein’ unhealthy. ya know wha’ they say; the one-liner ‘’m not drinkin’ too much tonight’ never goes as planned. then again, why not live life a’ ‘t’s fullest? we’ll all die soon anyway. ain’t tha’ true, sweetheart?”

As usual, Burgerpants grew completely red from the pet name while he nodded mutely. Sans couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Sometimes he was too  _cute_. The other glared at him, but with the soft edges around his eyes it completely lacked bite. Before the other could say anything, he threw his legs over the desk so he faced the other directly. Leaning forward, he threw his own cigarette to the floor. Sans found himself only centimetres from Burgerpants’ glowing face. With a smirk, he grabbed the opposite end of the other’s cigarette with his teeth, snatching it from his mouth.

After turning it, he inhaled deeply and took it between his fingers, rolling it. The cat wasn’t breathing. Growling slightly, he leaned forward even more, pressing a chaste kiss to Burgerpants’ mouth. One of Sans’ phalanges scratched behind the cat’s ear, making him purr.

“how ‘bout we live life right…  _now_?”


	15. Date?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last UF Burgersans for now I promise 
> 
> More smoking! These boys need to stop. At least Burgerpants. Red has no lungs.

One day they were Underground and life was as awful as ever, and the next they were on the Surface, feeling the sun on their bones and starting to move in. Sure, all of humanity wasn’t welcoming. In fact, sometimes the racism felt near overwhelming. But they made it work. They had their sanctuary and things looked brighter than ever. Like they had a chance of not only survival, but of thriving.

With those thoughts lingering in the back of his mind, Red turned toward the cat lounging next to him on the grassy hill in Ebott City Park. Smoke danced in the breeze, rising from the cigarettes in their hands. The sky was blue and in here, the sound of the noisy city seemed distant. For once, Burgerpants wasn’t in his uniform. Instead he looked quite handsome in torn grey jeans, a black tank top, and untied red sneakers. Not at all very different from Red’s leather jacket, red tank top and black jeans.

He tilted his head as he regarded his boyfriend who was staring up at the sky in awe. It wasn’t many days ago he’d first arrived on the Surface. Red had been among the first ones to come out due to his and his brother’s connections to the Crown, but monsters like Burgerpants had had to wait until proper homes were set up for them. Red couldn’t help but smile as he watched him. _Beautiful_. The thought made him stick his cigarette into his mouth before he got all soppy. No one needed that.

The smoke curled inside his mouth before he slowly breathed out, watching it rise toward the skies. It was so big. No ceiling, no walls, no limits. Sometimes it terrified him. Back Underground, he always knew where everything was, where _everyone_ was. Out here, not so much. But it was worth it. He stretched his arms out over his head, yawning as he dropped down on his back. Smiling lazily, he reached out so he could intertwine his fingers with Burgerpants. As he squeezed, red lit up the other’s cheeks, and he chuckled.

“Yer adorable, yanno that?” They’d been… _dating_ for over a year, yet he still flushed like a virgin whenever Red did something affectionate. It was ridiculously cute. He blinked. In the corner of his eye he could see Burgerpants open his mouth, likely to protest that _hell no, he wasn’t adorable_ , but Red cut him off. “Wanna go on a date, sweetheart? Seems like the Surface is a perfect place fer our first.”

Burgerpants’ eyes widened in shock and the cigarette fell out of his mouth as he gaped. It landed on his leg before rolling down onto the damp grass. Snorting, Red ignored the way his soul warmed at the faint happiness lighting up Burgerpants’ eyes, though suspicion still remained. Even after a year, he didn’t quite trust Red, and Red could hardly blame him. Trust could get you killed. Though in all fairness, if Red wanted him dead, he’d had more than enough chances. While his brother would never hurt someone sleeping in his arms, even if he wanted to, Red didn’t have any concerns about _honour_ or _right and wrong_. Just another reason Edge was the better one of them.

“Really?” he asked, red tinting his cheeks again as he picked up his cigarette and breathed in through it.

Red grinned. “Yeah. Haven’t had one yet, if ya don’t count hangin’ out in th’ Emporium an’ complainin’ ‘bout life. Fun stuff, sure, but my bro’s constantly tellin’ me tha’s not a date.”

Despite the hesitation on his face, as Red scratched his claws over the top of Burgerpants’ hand, he could hear quiet purring. It was kneading the grass, too. After he started to see him, Red was honestly happy that Edge had forced him to read all those books on cats when they got Doomfanger. Not that he’d ever admit that to him. “Well? Darlin’?” He sat up again, smirking as he bowed as deep as he could and holding out his free hand. “Do I get th’ honour o’ goin’ on a date wi’ ya?”

The other snorted. When Red straightened, he saw he was grinning, rolling his eyes.

“Asshole. Fuck yeah you do.”

“Fucking fabulous.” Throwing the remains of his cigarette onto the ashtray they’d brought and moved into Burgerpants’ lap, trailing his fingers along the other’s arm before leaning in down for a kiss. He nipped at Burgerpants’ lower lip and the other mewled into the kiss as he enthusiastically returned it. “I’ll come an’ getcha a’ six tomorrow, sounds good?” he murmured as they parted to his boyfriend could breathe. Burgerpants nodded, breathless, and Red leaned in again. “Wonderful, darlin’.” Suddenly he leaned back, fishing up another cigarette from his pocket and sticking it between his teeth, chuckling throatily as Burgerpants stared at him in betrayal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I write this date? Thoughts?


	16. Territories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous said: Edgelord supreme mermaid au? If you feel like it_
> 
> Warning for injury, potential death. It gets very suggestive in the end

_Pain_. _Fear. Movement._

_The rope dug into Razz’s sides, drawing blood. His hands were entangled with the net, and blood leaked from the chafing on his tail. His beautiful, powerful black and white fin, now stained with his own blood, which was dissolving in the water. Struggling, he tore at the net. Gnawed at it with his fangs, but it was too thick, too sturdy. Perhaps if he could’ve gotten to his knife, but it had fallen. Sunk deep into the blue darkness below, back to safety._

_His heart pounded as he tried to rip the rope. A hiss escaped him as his claws only scraped his own arm. Drops of blood escaped the light wound. Resisting the urge to scream, he snapped his teeth against the countless stupid fish caught in the net as well, gathering around him, pressing against him, suffocating him. Stupid fucking fish he hated them he_ hated _them so much._

_Above, the sun tore through the surface, washing him in its light. Normally, he enjoyed it, enjoyed throwing himself over the surface in shows of his strength and agility, but now it was a reminder of how close to the unknown he was. How close to the humans. To the dark shape above: a ship. The fishing net swung back and forth, taking him with it, steered by the ropes leading to the humans on the ship. Fishermen. Apex predators, even more than he was, with their machines and boats and nets._

_Fear made the world spin as he trashed with his tail, desperation growing. He could feel the net entangling him even further. Razz wanted to scream, yell for help, but he couldn’t. This wasn’t their territory. Not the territory of the Orca. If any of the Basking Sharks saw him, he’d be dead, and he still had a chance to escape._

_In the back of his head, a small voice told him no. No he didn’t. He should accept death at the hand of the Sharks, so he wouldn’t expose them. He should sacrifice himself for all of their kind. Who knew what the humans would do if they found out the merfolk existed? Fairy tales, they called them, Razz knew. They’d forgotten the days they’d throw them clothes or fish to earn their favour, or to avoid their spite, fearsome of what they could do. But these days, they did not fear them anymore. It was better to keep hidden, keep safe. To not let them know they existed, ever had existed. Hide their dead, avoid sightings, learn to identify anything made by the humans. He’d been startled by the net, hadn’t paid attention. He’d been stupid._

_He didn’t listen to the voice. He didn’t want to die, not yet. Not here, in foreign territory, where his brother would never get to know what had happened to him. Where he wasn’t even supposed to be._

_But one of the calves had disappeared, and they’d looked everywhere. This was the only place left to go. They were so few. The calves had to be kept safe, to any price, had to protect their future. Especially after the Queen lost hers to the humans. Children, as humans called them. He glanced up, swallowing._

_If he could only get a hand free-_

_A dark shape moved far below. Razz heard it before he saw it. That was the body of something bigger than a flounder or a pipefish. Holding his breath, he glanced down. He avoided moving, but if whoever it was could smell his blood, it was already too late. And if it was a Shark, they could._

_The shape closed in on him, started to take form, and he wanted to close his eyes. Just so he wouldn’t have to stare Death in the eye before he met Her. Perhaps focus on the wonderful chill of the water moving against his tail, his bones, before he left the Sea forever. But he didn’t. If there was one thing Razz was, it was a warrior, and he wouldn’t go out without a fight. Even if it was a fight he couldn’t win._

_Once the shape came closer, he found he’d been right. It was a Shark. A skeleton with a slate-grey tail moving deliberately side to side, in difference to Razz’s lithe movements designed for highest possible speed and agility. Their – his, judging from his smaller build, though still bigger than Razz since he was small for a male – eyes glowed ruby-red in the darkness, and a spear rested in their hand. Judging from with the ease they held it, they knew how to use it._

_Razz glared viciously at him as he circled the net, keeping enough distance to not risk getting entangled himself. The Shark’s eyes were immediately drawn to his bloodied tail. The chafe-marks stung viciously as blood continued to drip out into the dark Sea._

_“Do it,” he hissed, jerking at the net once more. Maybe for the last time. “Kill me, get it over with.”_

_The Shark regarded him before he swam up to the net, reaching out with the spear. Razz braced himself, staring straight into his eyes. His heart stopped. So did the Shark, pausing for a moment with an odd expression on his face. He swiped with the spear, with its sharp coral tip, and Razz prepared himself for the killing blow._

_It never came._

_His mouth fell open as the spear went straight through one of the ropes holding the net. His stomach dropped as the net tilted, and he heard yells from above water. A quiet whimper escaped him as the net suddenly started getting pulled upwards, though he’d deny that later. The Shark didn’t as much as look at him as he rushed around the net, and soon, Razz felt himself sink. Fish flooded out of the net as it fell apart, but since he was still stuck, he sank with it. He kicked out with his fin, rising a few feet, but as pain flashed through him and not much else happened, he knew there was no use._

_The Shark dove. Perhaps it was now he was going to kill him? Perhaps he just wanted to ensure the humans wouldn’t fish up a dead merman’s body first. No. The Shark, still holding his spear comfortably, grabbed the net with both his hands and pulled. Razz struggled._

_“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, and the Shark glared at him, obviously annoyed._

_“Saving your fucking life, asshole. Don’t make me change my mind.”_

_His mouth clicked closed in shock._

_Soon they found themselves in an underwater cave, and Razz watched in silence as the Shark stretched out the net as much as he could between different rocks. Once he was done, he sat down on one of the other rocks, crossing his arms as he stared at Razz. “I’m going to cut you free. And then you’re going to settle down and let me fix you, or you’re never getting back to your own territory alive, understood? My people will smell the blood and kill you.”_

_“Why aren’t you?” Razz wasn’t certain if it was a challenge or a genuine question. What it was, was stupid, and he did know_ that _. Nevertheless, he couldn’t stop himself from asking._

_The Shark regarded him in silence for a few moments. “You’re brave. An idiot, for venturing into our waters, but brave. Looked straight into my eyes when I was going to kill you. And either way, I don’t particularly care for killing the defenceless: that’s nothing but murder. Completely without honour.”_

_Slowly, Razz nodded. That was surprisingly reasonable, and something he could understand. Not that he himself would hesitate because of some useless code of honour. If he had found a defenceless Shark in Orca territory, he would have slaughtered them without a second thought, maybe brought them home to eat, even. But he could respect such reasoning. And the Shark didn’t need to know that. Even his own brother could be put off by his ruthlessness, and his brother didn’t hold his life in his hands._

_“So? Will you cooperate?”_

_After a moment of silence, Razz nodded again, decisive this time. “Alright. I will.”_

_The Shark seemed pleased with that. Twisting his spear around, he began cutting ropes. They snapped loudly every time._

_Razz sighed in relief as ropes finally stopped chafing, stopped pressing into the wounds, making them deeper. He rubbed his wrists before he started to tear away the last ropes from his tail. The Shark settled by his side, and nimble fingers began cleaning up his wounds, almost gently._

* * *

Glancing back, Razz did a sharp dive to the left, into the seaweed forest. Keeping near the bottom, he navigated through the billowy green plants. He didn’t think anyone saw him, but it was better safe than sorry. Once he existed the forest, he zig-zagged through the rocky meadow, keeping himself hidden from sight the whole time. Eventually, the entrance to the cave appeared. Not the same cave as that first time, since it was much too far into Shark territory, but one that was more or less in-between Shark and Orca waters.

When he entered the narrow passage, he whistled a tone to show it was him coming, and that there was no need to worry. The tones echoed between the walls. A bit in, the passage parted into a huge cave, and he smiled as he caught sight of Edge. The Shark was swimming around, since it was easier for him to breathe that way, though he stopped as he saw Razz, smiling faintly.

With a single kick of his powerful tail, Razz was up at his side, taking his face between his hands and pressing their teeth together. Arms sneaked around his waist, stroking his tail’s smooth skin. A contrast to Edge’s rough, sharp tail. When they parted, Razz smiled. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Edge murmured, taking Razz’s hands from his face and squeezing them. “I wish we could see each other more, but as it is, it’s impossible.” Razz knew. He knew that all too well. “Have you any success at your side?”

Sighing, Razz shook his head. “Ending an ancient feud is harder than you think,” he said, laughing in half-humour, half-bitterness. He sank into the other’s arms, and Edge held him as they settled on the sand-covered ground, leaning against the rough wall. Edge’s fingers stroked his tail almost out of pure habit. He’d done that all the time as Razz healed in the cave. He’d been forced to stay there for a couple days. Luckily, it had had an air pocket at the top, so he could swim up there to breathe. Sometimes he cursed his inability to breathe underwater, though it had its advantages to be an air-breather too. Letting his fingers wander over Edge’s arm, he shook his head. “My Queen is not pleased with the idea of ending the war. She believes your land is ours, just as I did.”

Edge nodded, and the movements sent water lapping at the back of Razz’s head. His tail twitched. “His Majesty does as well, especially since you _do_ eat my kind.” His tone was pointed, but Razz only shrugged. They did. They always had. Such was the way of the Orca, just like it was the way of their killer whale-relatives.

“Anyway,” Edge said, voice suddenly sweeter. He shifted, so that Razz would kick up in the water, before grabbing Razz’s arms and twisting him around before seating him in his lap again. Razz’s grin turned wicked as he saw the gleam in his partner’s eyes. “We’ve got a couple hours this time, haven’t we?”

Without a word, Razz pressed his tail against the ground, shoving himself against the other. Their teeth clacked together loudly, and a throaty chuckle escaped Edge as they kissed, and he raked his claws up Razz’s back. A pleasured shiver travelled through him. He smirked. “We certainly do, asshole.”

“Good.”

Razz yelped as he was shoved down on his back, and Edge towered over him. Reaching out, he ran his hands over Edge’s ribs, grinning as Edge’s gills flared as he dug his claws into a scar. “Come and take it,” he purred.

Pure predator was written over Edge’s face as he stared down at him, and Razz mirrored the expression. “If you’re _offering_ …”

With another chuckle, Razz grabbed Edge’s ribs and used his tail to flip them around. Now on top of the other, his grin widened. “Oh no, that was a _challenge_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requests are open now, because I'm in a creative slump! You can leave one in the comments or at my Tumblr, or even @ me on Twitter if you'd like
> 
> Listen. Listen. The shark Edge is related to/shares a tail with? It's got a neat tail, it has, (and was also the only northern shark matching up with a killer whale in size) but its face and mouth is freaking me the fuck out take a [goddamn look](https://www.google.com/search?q=basking+shark&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwi68a6wj9DfAhXp-ioKHZSSCecQ_AUIDigB&biw=1422&bih=644#imgrc=Bsgc7s_9QciVEM:). Anyway Edge is like 7 meters tall and Razz like 6.60m or so. Even though orca males are normally bigger than male basking sharks, I imagine, since male basking sharks are smaller than the females, and male orcas are bigger than the females, and their species are basically the same size. Either way they're both _big_ and I'm rambling so I'm gonna stop now okay


	17. The Dark Brotherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fucking Skyrim AU because why the hell not
> 
> The Night Mother's Listener sent Razz out on this mission, despite it being a beginner's assassination. There's got to be a reason for that. Or maybe not: who was he to question the Lady's motives?
> 
> Warnings: murder, abuse

_“Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear._ ”

The whispered words seemed to echo between the walls of the house as Razz stepped in, his movements soundless. His black and red armour and hood made him melt right into the shadows. In the corner of the small attic room, a child sat bowed. No, wait. Not a child. A young adult, but they were so small they seemed a child at a first glance.

The effigy of the Black Sacrament was spread out on the floor in front of them. Candles stood in a half-circle around the assembled skeleton, heart and piece of flesh. He always wondered where the hell these people got those things. Razz knew where _he’d_ get it, but more often than not, if they were asking the Night Mother for Her help, they were likely not up for murder themselves. Of course, a few were willing but not able, but then they should likely have issues getting their hands on a full human skeleton as well.

“ _Sweet mother, sweet mother…_ ” Their voice was faint, dry, as though they’d been here for hours, at the very least. Which they had: the Listener had given Razz this contract as soon as the Mother told her, and yet his client was still kneeling on the floor.

The room itself was terrible. Wind slipped through the hay roof, causing a draft that made the candleflames flicker, and the floor was splintered. The only furniture was a thin bed with a thin blanket shoved in the corner, and a dresser. Which was quite strange, seeing how downstairs had been homely. Not fancy in any way, seeing how it was a mill house, but warm and lived in. This was worse than a prison cell. Not that Razz had ever been in one, but he _had_ once broken into Solitude prison to kill a khajiit in for illegal gambling.

“ _-blood and fear_.”

Oh, right. He rolled his eyes on himself. Nice going, Razz, getting distracted by interior design of all things. Straightening, he stepped out of the shadows. Now, the floor creaked beneath his boots. The client froze. A yelp escaped them as they twisted around, panic written on their face. “It’s not wha-”

They fell quiet as their gaze fell on Razz, widening. Razz took a better look at them. A skeleton, like him, with huge, pale blue eyelights. Their bones were ashen, evidence of malnutrition. And they were dressed in a torn, beige tunic and brown trousers, but no shoes. They must be freezing up here, Razz could feel the draft _through_ his armour. Somehow, they seemed familiar. Their mouth fell open, and they let out a soft “ _Oh._ ”

“The Lady of Death has heard your pleas,” Razz announced solemnly through the red veil covering his face. Only his eyes were visible. “What services do you require from the Dark Brotherhood?”

“I-” A shiver overtook them, their bones rattling. They rose to their feet, swaying, and clenched their hands at their sides as they looked him into the eyes. But they _did_ look him into the eyes, and that was incredibly brave in itself. “I’m- I’m Blue. And-” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before his expression set. “I want you to kill Ms Gullveig. Our- our guardian.”

“Our?” Razz raised an eyebrow.

Blue swallowed, nodding. “Me and my brother. She adopted us from Honorhall Orphanage years ago. We were ecstatic.” A faint smile appeared on his face, but then it turned into a grimace. “Turns out she wanted free workers in the mill. I want you to kill her.”

“And what will you pay me? Our services do not come cheap.” Despite his dispassionate words, Razz almost felt sorry for him. Not quite: he was an assassin raised in the Dark Brotherhood. He’d killed good people for good money, and never looked back. It wasn’t in his blood to feel pity.

“Ms Gullveig has at least a thousand septim hidden away,” Blue said. “You can take all of it, once she’s dead. I’ll show you where it is.”

Razz nodded. “Acceptable. The Brotherhood accepts your offer.”

The relief that lit up Blue’s face wasn’t in the least making his soul ache. “Thank you.” The words were hushed, so filled with gratitude it sounded nearly reverent. The corner of Razz’s mouth tilted upwards at it. Well. He had always enjoyed being adored. Without a word, he turned his back to Blue, stepping back into the narrow staircase.

The owner of the mill wasn’t inside, just like she hadn’t been when Razz arrived. A warm fire crackled in the hearth and something was boiling inside a pot hanging over it, spreading a delicious taste through the house. Somehow, he doubted Blue and his brother would get to share whatever was inside it. He opened the door just a tad, glancing around. The river rushed by outside, roaring loudly, and he could see Whiterun in the distance. Otherwise, it was empty.

Quiet, however, it was not. Yelling came from the mill. Slipping his Dwarven bow off his shoulders and pulling out a Dwarven arrow and placing it on the string, he crept toward the mill. His steps were careful over the gravel, and he hardly made a sound as he closed in on the mill.

“-you _useless little ant!_ ” a shrill voice came, and Razz winced. By _Sithis_ , what a horrible sound. “Can’t you do _anything_ right?!”

“I’m- I’m sorry I-” A slapping noise cut the shaking voice off, and a pained yell followed. Razz slid in along the wall of the mill.

“ _Be quiet_.”

Thumbing on the string of the bow, he stepped up to the entrance of the mill, and drew it.

The mill was white. Everything inside it was white, covered in flour splattered from the sack lying on the floor. A woman: a Nord, blonde and in a blue dress, had her fist balled around the collar of a much taller skeleton, his bones ashen just as Blue had been, and in similar clothes, though he _was_ wearing boots. The skeleton’s eyes were wide in fear and their hand raised to their cheek, and despite being more than a head taller than her, he was cowering.

Both twisted their heads against them as he stepped into their view, and she immediately let go off the skeleton, staring at him. Despite the arrow pointed at her, she showed little fear. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Are you Gullveig?” Razz moved his gaze to the skeleton, Blue’s brother. “Is she?”

He nodded mutely, stumbling backwards. His eyelights flickered between Razz and his matron.

Razz grinned beneath his veil. “The Dark Brotherhood sends its regards.” He released the arrow, and it hit her throat. A low moan escaped her as she fell to the ground. Dead: he’d hit the spinal cord. It had been painless, since Blue hadn’t specified anything else. Pain cost extra, unless Razz was in a particular mood.

Nonetheless, just to be safe, he knelt down and pressed two fingers to her wrist. A short while after, her heartbeat disappeared. Yeah, definitely dead. It was almost disappointing: this was a beginner’s job. Why the Listener had sent _him_ , one of their best, he had no idea, but who was he to question the one speaking for their Lady?

Standing straight, he put his bow back on his back and pulled the arrow out from her throat. Dwarven arrows were hard to come by, so he wasn’t about to leave it. He’d clean it once he came home to the Sanctuary. Blue’s brother was still standing in the back of the mill, back pressed against the wall. His eyelights flickered madly. Razz rolled his eyes. “Calm down, I am not here for you. My contract was to kill her only.”

Turning his back to the skeleton, he began making his way back over to the house. A shaky voice made him look over his shoulder.

“Where- where are you going?”

“To collect my payment.”

He ignored the other’s weak, fearful protests as he made his way into the house once more. Now followed by the brother, he made no effort to move unseen, since it would’ve taken much too much effort to lose the skeleton than it was worth. His steps were still silent, however. They always were. Up on the attic, Blue had blown out the candles and put them away and the heart and piece of flesh was no longer lying on the floor. The skeleton, however, was still there. It wasn’t entirely easy to dispose of something that size in an inconspicuous way.

Now sitting on the bed, Blue smiled as he saw him. “Is it done?”

“Obviously.”

The floorboards creaked behind him. “Is _what_ done? Blue, what is _going on?_ ”

Blue’s gaze flicked over to his brother. A brief flash of regret came and went before his smile returned. “Ms. Gullveig. She’s- She won’t hurt us anymore, Rus. We’re free.”

“ _You hired a cutthroat?_ ”

Nodding, Blue walked over and took his hands. “She wouldn’t have let us go, you know that. We couldn’t- It was the only way.”

Razz glared at ‘Rus’, crossing his arms. “I am no mere cutthroat, guard your tongue. I am a representative of the Dark Brotherhood; a servant of the Lady of Death, the Night Mother, the Blood Flower.” He turned to Blue, voice impassive. “My payment?”

He quickly nodded. “Yes, of course. Downstairs.”

As they descended the staircase, him in the lead, he listened to the brothers talk as he rested his hand on the handle of the knife hanging from his waist.

“What’re we going to do now, Blue?”

“I don’t know. But anything is better than that.”

“At least we had a _home_ , we can’t stay here what if the guards _find out_?”

“We’ll figure something out, don’t worry. But she’s not hurting us anymore, that’s the only thing that matters.”

“It really _isn’t_ we’re not even inheriting anything, her nieces are. I- I’m glad she can’t hurt us anymore but- is it really worth starving to death on the street?”

“ _We won’t._ ” Blue’s voice was sharp. “I’ll figure something out.”

Razz ignored his rising unease. Wow. No plan or anything. It’s what he could’ve expected from a child, but these two were undoubtedly adults, his age. And it wasn’t entirely unlikely, what Rus said. That the guards would figure out what had happened: the Black Sacrament wasn’t unknown, so if the pieces were found, it was quite easy to draw the conclusion that an assassin from the Brotherhood had been hired.

But he couldn’t figure out why he felt uneasy. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen unimaginable suffering before. Starvation, violence, poverty. He’d inflicted incredible pain himself: murdered a man in front of his sister, burned someone to death, killed an infant’s parents. Anything he was hired to do, he would do. If the Listener, and therefore their Lady, said he was to do something, he did, without hesitance or regret.

And yet…

He blinked, realization dawning on him. Just in time for them to reach the main room. Blue immediately dove in beneath the bed, moving away floorboards. By Sithis- “You said you were from Honorhall?” he asked, and Blue twitched, yelping as he hit his head on the underside of the bed.

Rus nodded, staring at him in suspicion. “Yes. Were ‘adopted’ when Blue was ten, I was nine. Ten years ago.”

 _Twenty years_. Blue was twenty. His soul raced in his chest as he realized the implications. _Twenty_. And from _Honorhall_. That’s why he seemed familiar. Forcing himself to keep his calm, Razz leaned against the wall, watching as Blue crawled back out. He held a brown moneybag. “I have a… suggestion,” he said.”

Blue blinked, tilting his head. “Yes?”

“If you do not know where to go, I can offer you a place in our Sanctuary.” This was insane. The head of the Family was going to kill him – hopefully not literally. _Probably_ not literally. Not only was he one of their best, but they called it the _Family_ for a reason. “If you’re comfortable living with assassins, follow orders, and to work for your keep.” At the horror on their faces, he added, “Not necessarily as assassins – though I do believe you could do the job, seeing how you were willing to have your mistress killed.” It’d be quite nice to have someone to do some of the housekeeping for them, he was certain everyone would think that, or at least parts of it.

“Why?” Rus stared at him, suspicion and confusion shining in his eyes.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Razz raised a hand up to his veil. He undid one side of it inside the hood, pulling it off to reveal his face. “For old friendships’ sake.”

A few seconds passed as Blue stared at him through narrowed eyes. Then he gaped. “ _Razz?_ ”

Refastening his veil, Razz nodded. “Indeed.” They’d been best friends back at the orphanage before he had… ended up in trouble by stabbing a man trying to lure his brother into an alley with a knife he’d stolen from the market in Riften. Soon after, the Brotherhood had adopted them both. He’d been seven. The Brotherhood had a talent for finding those fit for the job. “So? Will you come with me? Or would you prefer starving?”

As they hesitated, he looked them straight into the eyes. “And keep in mind, if you come, and as much as _think_ of betraying the Family, old bonds won’t matter. I, or my siblings, _will hunt you down_.”

Both flinched. “Can we- can we think this over?” Blue carefully asked.

Razz nodded once. “I’ll return tomorrow. I recommend you keep the murder of your matron hidden until then, so you better clean up the body. Or pay me extra, and I will do it for you.”

“We’ll do it,” Rus interjected, stepping in-between them.

“Tomorrow, then.”

Without another word, he held out his hand, and Blue dropped the moneybag into it. After checking the money, he nodded and turned his back to them. A horse was waiting for him nearby. Now he just had to explain this to the Family’s master. Somehow.

* * *

“ _You want us to what?_ ”

“Take them in. Let them care for the Sanctuary, and we feed and house them in return. It’s not unreasonable, Wingdings.”

“And what if they betray us?”

“We hunt them down before they can utter a word and kill them. I will personally take responsibility for them.”

“This is idiocy.”

“I do believe Blue could be a fine assassin. Let him do the contracts that deals with abusers and criminals once we’ve trained him.”

“Ey, let ‘em come! Sounds like it’d be fun. Plus it sounds like a _damn_ good idea to get a housekeeper or two.”

“You’re ridiculously lazy, brother. But yes, I agree. The Sanctuary are so far away from everything else: if they try to run, we can easily stop them. After all, Father, do you truly doubt that Tamriel’s best assassins cannot stop two nobodies?”

“Fine. But you’re responsible for them, Razz. Their training and their ability to keep their mouths shut.”

“Of course.”

* * *

When he approached the mill the next day, dusk was falling. Shadows danced over the hills as the black horse thundered over them and rain sprinkled against his face. Standing up in the saddle, he hurried her on even more until he reached the main building itself. From a single signal, she stopped at once, throwing with her head as he dismounted. He simply tied the reins up so they wouldn’t fall over her head and left her. She wouldn’t go anywhere unless she had to, and if she did, she’d come at his whistle.

He glanced in through the window as he passed by. The house was warmly lit, and the brothers sat curled up in front of the flickering fire. They were still wearing rags. The door creaked as he slid it open, stepping inside. Their eyes flickered to him, and Blue smiled hesitantly. Rus’ expression was neutral, with the faintest hint of fear, as he regarded Razz.

“Well?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

“We’re coming with you.” Blue stood, followed by his brother, and doused the fire. After grabbing two sacks, which Razz assumed held their belongings, they stepped up to him. Rus still lingered behind. “We have nowhere else to go. But- We don’t want to kill people.”

Razz shrugged. “It’s your choice.” That opinion was unlikely to last, though, if they were going to survive in the Sanctuary. You couldn’t be uncomfortable with death there, where everyone bragged about their kills. “Let’s go. I don’t assume you can ride?”

They shook their heads, and he sighed. Of course they couldn’t. Lucky his horse, Myrkr, was both strong and steady. He swung himself up on her back and steered her to the stonewall nearby so they could climb up. Rus behind him, and Blue behind Rus. “Hold on tight. Scream if you’re about to fall off.”

Applying gentle pressure to Myrkr’s side, he put her straight into short gallop. Walking would take too long, and trot was certainly ten times harder to balance in, so faster was better in all ways. They both yelped. Razz couldn’t help but smirk as he felt them both cling into him like a lifeline.

The journey wasn’t incredibly long, but at two points he had to slow down to let Myrkr rest, and once stay by a river so she could drink. But the sun had yet to rise as they reached the other side of the mountain. Razz dismounted and grinned as he watched the other two more or less fall of the horse before taking off Myrkr’s harness and setting her on her way. The horses walked freely in the forest, and it wasn’t far to the barn where they found both warmth and food.

He waved for the two to follow. Their gazes flickered over the forest and they pressed their bags close to their chests as he led them down the hill, into the rocks where the door was hidden. A gasp escaped Rus as he saw the door. A stone door with a skull, a red handprint, and a skeleton sculptured into it. Razz remembered the first time they’d come here: he’d wondered if it was a door to Hell. He rapped two fingers against the door.

“ _What is the music of life_?” a voice came from inside.

“Silence, my brother.”

“ _Welcome home_.”

The door opened, and a grinning Red was revealed. Today, he wasn’t in his armour, but in simple trousers and a half-unbuttoned shirt. He straightened, glancing over Razz’s head. “Are these yer ol’ buddies from th’ orphanage?”

“Yes.” Razz rolled his eyes. “Obviously. Let us in.”

“Rude.” Grinning wider, Red stepped backwards and waved for them to come with him.

Closing the door behind them, Razz did, and the brothers came after. The narrow path soon led into the first chamber of Whiterun Sanctuary, a great stone room. The opposite wall was covered in an enormous mosaic depicting the Lady of Death. He nodded at multiple of the assassins as they passed, but first of all they had to see Wingdings. He was the master of this Family, after all. In the next room, down a huge stone staircase, he found the leader of the Sanctuary standing by the wall, nodding as Edge sent away shower after shower of arrows.

As they stepped in, Edge sent away a last arrow before turning around, studying them. Razz saw his eyes fall on Rus and widen. Huh. His eyes flickered to Razz. “I assume this is them?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “It is.”

Wingdings came up to them, looking as serious as ever as he regarded Blue and Rus. “Welcome to the Whiterun Sanctuary,” he finally said, just as Blue was beginning to look like he wanted to run away. Rus just stared at Wingdings in defiance, “and to the Dark Brotherhood. Serve us, and the Night Mother, well, and you will lack nothing. Betray us, and you will wish you were never born. I am Wingdings Gaster, head of this Sanctuary.” He turned to Razz. “Show them to the sleeping area, Razz. Edge, return to your practice. And Red, just because you’re having a lazy day does not mean you can dress like a farmer.”

Edge rolled his eyes as he stepped back to the dummies, picking up an arrow, putting it on the bow, drawing and releasing in one smooth movement. The air cut through the air, going straight through the dummy’s throat. A gasp escaped Blue, and as Razz looked at him, he seemed almost awed. The corner of Razz’s mouth tilted upwards. Yeah, they could likely mould him into a fine assassin with some time.

“Yer not my boss,” Red objected.

“Yes. I am. Both your master and your father.” Wingdings’ tone was unimpressed.

Red hummed. “Alright true. But ‘m still not changin’. ‘S not like ‘m doin’ anythin’ but lazyin’ around anyway.”

Wingdings sighed.

Chuckling, Razz gestured for Blue and Rus to follow. The sleeping area was a couple rooms in the second deepest part of the mountain, second only to the weapons chamber. Most of them shared communal sleeping spaces, unless they were married. The rooms were homely, however, with everyone’s personal belongings spread out. A couple beds were free already due to a failed mission. A failed attempt at killing the Jarl in Whiterun. “Here is where you will sleep. I sleep there.” He pointed five beds over from the free ones.

Dropping his bag to the ground, Blue stared in awe at the room, the beds and the chests at their foot, and the firepit spread out along the walls to keep the stone chambers warm. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes as he turned around to look at Razz. He was smiling. “It’s perfect. Isn’t it, brother?”

Rus’ expression was odd, but he nodded. A small smile lit up his face as well. “Yeah. It is.”

“Good.” Razz couldn’t help but smile. Luckily they couldn’t see it under his veil. “I am certain you will enjoy it here.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't the _faintest_ idea what this is but I did work hard on it. I just wanted an assassin Razz and this happened okay???


	18. Fires pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of chap. 6: ❝ Tonight, you will join me in my bed. ❞ --Honeyblossom.
> 
> Warning for implied noncon, enormous power imbalances, and something that sorta came close to a panic attack

Rus could leave twenty minutes later, but the wait felt like an eternity. The prince’s hands didn’t wander higher than his knee, but sitting there, completely helpless and at Prince Papyrus’ mercy – although it was famously great – as the other smiled and asked him about himself, was the worst twenty minutes in Rus’ life. Well, not quite. _Nothing_ could beat when Blue got a serious case of measles and he couldn’t see him for over two weeks. He’d just been waiting for the news of his brother’s death. _That_ had been the worst time of his life, and he hadn’t even turned nine.

After promising to come back in time for dinner, he finally climbed down the staircase, anxiety tingling in every bone in his body. He kept glancing backwards. Just in case the prince changed his mind. You could never know. If Rus had learnt one thing in his life, it was that people with power were unpredictable. It was near impossible to tell what would come.

When he entered the tower the next time to finish up his job and light the other fireplaces, his breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t breathe. As he sank down in front of a parlour fireplace, he stared only at the ashes, pretending he was anywhere but there. Unfortunately, Prince Papyrus’ tower was huge, and he had to make multiple retours to the woodshed until he was done.

His arms ached from carrying all that firewood as he re-entered the servants’ wing. He sighed in relief as he stepped inside and the warmth of the firepits spread out along the walls washed over him. His teeth still chattered as he rubbed his arms, stepping up against one to warm himself.

The bliss of the flame’s flickering warmth thawing him up didn’t last long, however. A servant girl came around the corner, yelping as she saw him. Her footsteps echoed through the hallways as she disappeared. Unease rose in Rus. It couldn’t have gotten out _already_ , could it? Nothing had even happened yet!

Doing his best to ignore it, he turned back to the firepit, but the feeling of peace and relief was gone. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried not to think of what laid before him. It didn’t succeed very well. Images flashed before his eyes: images of Prince Papyrus’ hands wandering over him, asking him “Do you want it?” and him answering, with every peace of enthusiasm he could fake, “Yeah, Your Highness.” Of the throne heir doing things to him that were only meant for those in wedlock.

His breath caught in his throat. Oh _gods_ what about his future? Leaning heavily on the firepit, ignoring how the flames burned his hands, he stared at the wall. The world spun. Not only were his prospects already meagre, but this might make them _lesser_. His life was falling into pieces and he couldn’t do _anything_ because if he refused he might not have a future at all. Prince Papyrus was known to be kind, but there was no telling how the kingdom’s second most powerful man would react if he was denied by a _servant_.

“There you are!” a light voice made him twist around, his soul pounding in his chest. He stared wildly at the handmaiden who stood in the door entrance, looking at him expectantly. Blinking, Rus tried to get a word out, but his throat was tied up. When he said nothing, she sighed and shook her head, coming up to him to grab his jacket sleeve.

As she pulled him with her, he stumbled after. His mind spun as he tried to figure out why one of the elegantly dressed handmaidens, personal servants of the noble ladies, acted as though she knew him. In her red skirt, white puff-sleeved shirt and black bodice, it was evident she was high above his level.

“Wh-wha-” he began. “Where’s you taking me? Ma’am?”

“To clean you up, of course.” Judging from her tone, she thought it obvious. He blinked. “You can’t look like _that_ when you dine with _His Highness_.”

He froze mid-step, falling forward as she kept pulling him before he regained his balance. _Oh_. He swallowed. Thank the stars Blue would be busy right now. He worked in the stable since he had a good hand with the horses, so they rarely saw each other during the day. But how was he going to explain this to him?

“How many knows?” he managed to whisper, pressing the words past the thickness in his throat.

She smiled gently, compassion shining in her eyes. “Right now? About five people. But if I were you, I’d be prepared on it getting out. It tends to do that.” And it did. Everyone knew about how one of the kitchen girls sometimes shared the bed of one of the minor lords. Then her expression was all business again as she took him into the servants’ bathing room. Steam filled the air and a wooden tub stood in the middle. “Off with your clothes and jump in.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, but when she nodded expectantly, gesturing toward the tub, he slowly began to pull of his jacket and pull his shirt over his head. His cheeks flushed hotly as he dropped his trousers, fighting his flight-instinct. No one but Blue had seen him without clothes since he was a babybones at the orphanage. Much to his relief, her eyes didn’t as much as wander before she ushered him toward the tub. As he stepped into it, an embarrassing noise of surprise escaped him. Sure, he’d seen that the water was hot, but until the warmth enveloped his bones, he hadn’t processed it. Since they were on the bottom of the castle hierarchy, their rare baths had been long after the water had gone cold.

He stiffened as the handmaiden began running her hands over his bones, scrubbing off the dirt basically ingrained in them. Soon, the water turned brownish. “Dear _gods_ you’re dirty,” she muttered as she pulled up the sleeve of her shirt, reaching down into the water. Rus jerked as her hand brushed past his leg before reaching what she was looking for, and the tub began to empty. He didn’t know whether he should apologize for being unable to keep clean or not, so he simply kept his mouth shut.

As soon as the tub was empty, she put back the cork into the hole in the tub’s bottom, waving for someone in the corner. Rus’ eyes widened as a servant girl appeared from the shadows. How the heck hadn’t he realized she was there? She filled up the tub again, and the scrubbing began once more.

Once the handmaiden was pleased, she held out her hand to help him up. Hesitantly, he took it, allowing her to pull him out of the bathtub and down on the stray-covered floor. It rustled beneath his feet. The servant girl from before handed the handmaiden a towel, and he sighed, preparing himself for its roughness. When soft linen instead brushed up against his bones, Rus pressed his teeth together to avoid making any noises. Oh. Oh that felt nice. A shiver of pleasure travelled up his spine as she gently wiped off his ribs.

“And done,” the handmaiden eventually said, pleased. She looked him over, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “You actually look like a person now.”

“Thanks?”

“Time to get you dressed. The time is rushing away with us, and His Highness will be waiting.”

Before he could even move toward the clothes he’d thrown haphazardly on the floor, she held out a hand to stop him, waving for the servant girl again. She came up, carrying pieces of fabric in her arms. When the handmaiden took the white one on top, Rus could hardly believe his eyes as she unfolded it, handing it over. The silk was soft and delicate in his hands. He gaped at her.

“Put it on,” she told him, nodding.

“I-” Rus shook his head, trying to clear it. The haze and warmth made the world spin around him. “I can’t wear this, ma’am! It’s much too fine! I’ll damage it!”

She fixed her gaze on him, raising her eyebrows. “So will you tell Prince Papyrus you denied his generosity? Refused his gifts? That seems quite rude, if you ask me.”

“I-” he said again before closing his eyes. He exhaled. “No, that sounds stupid.” She nodded in agreement as he pulled the tunic over his head and it brushed over his bones, softer than anything he’d ever worn. He let out a sound of disbelief. The handmaiden handed over a pair of black trousers as well, which he pulled on without protest and carefully tucked the ends of the shirt inside. “How do I look?”

“Presentable. Now just put this on, and the boots, and you’re ready to go.” She handed him a black vest, and as he did put it on, she stepped up to him and with nimble fingers buttoned it. He stared down at her black hair, tied in a neat bun, as she did, doing his best to breathe normally.

“Ma’am, it’s time,” the servant girl notified them. “The staff has set the Prince’s table.”

“Perfect timing.” She looked him over one more time, waving him toward the entrance. A pair of polished black leather boots stood there, and he helplessly tugged them on. Yes, gods, these clothes were beautiful and he’d never even dreamt of wearing anything like it, but moon and stars, he wasn’t _meant_ to wear clothes like this. It wasn’t _right_. But he couldn’t exactly deny royalty.

The handmaiden led him to the front door and sent him on his way. “Behave,” she exhorted him. “Do what you’re told, and you might find this is a good thing.”

When he turned his back to her, hurrying over the snowy yard, shivering, he frowned. He wasn’t a _child_ , he didn’t need to be told that. But once he looked forward where he was going, and the tower towered above him, he flinched, annoyance forgotten. That horrible feeling of dread settled in his stomach as he was allowed entrance, and a page appeared. The boy was maybe thirteen at most and dressed in that colourful tunic and those tights which showed his status. Rus had always thought the pages looked ridiculous, though he’d never dared voice that opinion.

“Follow me,” the page ordered, his voice carrying that air of authority every noble, even the working children, never seemed to lose.

“Of course,” Rus murmured automatically, lowering his gaze to the ground. Despite their nobility, pages weren’t actually particularly high-ranked, though they’d grow up to be knights and lords, but mostly everyone was higher than him.

The walk was short, and soon the page waved him into yet another room, closing the door behind him. A private dining room, decorated nearly entirely in gold and white. But it was the smell he noticed first. The warm, inviting scent of roasted duck and freshly baked bread and spices hit him, making his stomach growl. A gentle chuckle made him turn around. In an armchair along the wall, Prince Papyrus sat, though he stood once Rus’ gaze fell on him. Rus immediately sank to his knees, his stomach sinking with him.

Footsteps closed in on him before a warm hand settled on his shoulder, and as he glanced down, the prince was crouching in front of him, smiling brilliantly. “Welcome, Rus! Stand, and come dine with me.” Prince Papyrus rose, and after a moment, Rus followed, keeping his eyes fixed on the other’s polished-until-they-shine boots. Until, that is, he took Rus’ jaw in a hand and tilted his face upwards until he had no other choice but to look him into the eyes. Prince Papyrus beamed. “You’re looking quite handsome in those clothes, I’ve got to say.”

He smiled. “Thank you, Your Highness. They’re beautiful. But you shouldn’t put such money on me, it’s not worth it.”

“Nonsense!” he exclaimed, starting to lead Rus toward the table. “You’re more than worth it, from what I’ve seen.”

The prince himself sat down in the chair at the head of the table while gesturing for him to sit in the chair on his right. Rus eyed in the setting with trepidation. The plates were of silver, sculpted with elegant patterns, and there were two of them: one beneath and one of top with a small appetizer on. Smoked salmon. There were three different kinds of glasses. A metal chalice and two glasses, all three of them elegantly sculpted.

Prince Papyrus smiled at him. “A simple meal, but I assume you’re not all too used to this, so I recommend you eat slowly. Bon appetite.”

He waited until the prince took the outmost knife and fork to cut it up. Rus glanced at his movements before concentrating to repeat them: he’d never used a fork before. They usually just ate with knives, spoons, and their hands, just like most everyone else. Much to his relief, it wasn’t difficult, and he put the first piece of salmon in his mouth. It was smooth and the consistency weird, but _holy shit_. Prince Papyrus watched him with badly hidden pleasure, but right there, Rus didn’t care. He almost tore a second piece of with his fork to put it in his mouth again, tasting it.

“You seem to enjoy it,” the prince observed, and Rus could only nod. Yes, he had, just like the rest of the staff, gotten to eat left-overs from the banquets but they’d never been this fresh. Never this _delicious_.

Letting him savour it, Prince Papyrus took another bite from his own appetizer, never once looking away.

It was first when his plate was empty, and the near-constant ache in his stomach somewhat sated, that he remembered the situation he was in. He smiled nervously at him, and Prince Papyrus returned it. “I am glad to see you’re enjoying yourself, Rus.”

“It’s delicious, Your Highness.” That wasn’t a lie. And admittedly, he _had_ been enjoying himself for some brief moments there, before he remembered why he was here. An image of what would come flashed before his eyes, and he blinked rapidly, chasing it away. His smile wavered only for a moment before he managed to put it back. To his relief, Prince Papyrus didn’t seem to have noticed.

The prince’s smile widened, and he reached out to put down some of the roasted duck on both their plates. Rus couldn’t help but stare: he’d never seen the aristocracy serve themselves before, and _certainly_ not those of lower standing than them, not even their… _lovers_. He nearly trembled as he forced himself to think the word.

As they ate, Prince Papyrus chatted cheerfully about various matters Rus couldn’t quite comprehend, such as meetings with the Royal Council when he was back in the capital and how exasperating it could be to deal with the lords of the council: something about them being much too old-fashioned for these new times of _science and philosophy_. Rus only nodded and hummed agreements as the prince quoted someone called Descartes.

“It is not enough to have a good mind; the main thing us to use it well,” he said, and Rus nodded as he looked at him, expecting a response. That made sense, even if it was phrased more complicated than it had to. _Use your head, don’t be stupid_ , the orphanage headmistress used to say, and that basically meant the same thing. “What are you thinking, Rus?”

“I don’t know anything about philosophy, Your Highness,” he said hesitantly, “but that sounds right. D’Cart sounds like he knew what he was talking about.”

Amusement glittered in Prince Papyrus’ eyes. “ _Descartes_ , Rus. But yes, I would hope so. He was the great Queen Christina of Sweden’s personal tutor, after all, and died there from pneumonia. A shame.”

Rus could only nod.

At least, the food was even more delicious than the appetizer. The mere scent of the roasted duck made his mouth water, and he had a hard time wrapping his mind around the fact that he had a full portion on his plate, just for him. He only wished he could’ve shared it with Blue. The thought sent a wave of shame through him. How would he explain all of this? By now, Blue would be home from the stable, and wondering where he was. Perhaps a servant would tell him. Perhaps he knew exactly where Rus was, and in that case, likely embarrassed.

Then a servant arrived with the dessert. Two little custard tarts were placed on his plate, perfectly yellow and sweet-smelling. “Your- Your Highness,” Rus stuttered as he stared at them. “Your Highness, this- I can’t eat this.”

“Oh?” He leaned over the table, raising an eyebrow. Instinctually, Rus leaned back in his chair before catching himself. “And why is that?”

“This isn’t for people like me.” This voice was small as he made himself look at the prince. Terror grew in his soul as he saw how the other was looking at _him_ , with amusement and something hotter in his eyes. “Orphans… Servants…” He was _royalty_ , he should know this.

Smile softening, Prince Papyrus shoved one of the tarts toward him. “You’re my honoured guest, Rus. You deserve everything I give you.”

Despite their gentleness, his words left no room for arguments. Rus nodded, reaching for the spoon lying behind his plate so he’d have an excuse to look away and duck his head. When he tasted the tart, its sweetness was almost overwhelming. “Oh.” He nearly moaned. “ _Oh stars_.” In the corner of his eye, he could see Prince Papyrus grin.

“Almost as sweet as you,” he murmured, and Rus smiled, averting his eyes. Suddenly the tart only tasted of bile.

* * *

Soon, he’d ended up in Prince Papyrus’ bedchamber again, in the same chair as earlier. His entire body tingled in discomfort as he, his stomach fuller than it had ever been before, ‘allowed’ the other to run his hands over his arm, fingertips scraping his bones through the thin fabric. The prince was pleased, that much was easy to see, and Rus honest to God hadn’t the faintest idea whether he succeeded well in hiding his discomfort, or if the prince simply didn’t care. Quite likely, it was a bit of both.

The fire crackled, casting its warmth and light over the dim room – someone else must’ve filled it up again earlier. His breathing shallowed as he leaned into Prince Papyrus’ ministrations, breath hitching as they suddenly scraped over his collarbone. His eyes were closed, head leaned back. It didn’t seem as though the prince was expecting him to reciprocate just yet.

A hand cupped his jaw, and he opened his eyes just a tad just in time to see the other lean in. Panic sparked, and he jerked backwards, out of the other’s grasp. His soul raced in his chest.

Horror spiked through him as Prince Papyrus’ hand dropped into his lap, his eyes widening. What _did he do? Stupid._ Clenching his own hands so hard it hurt, Rus smiled apologetically at the prince, leaning forward. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, I- you surprised me. I’ve- I’ve never kissed anyone before,” he admitted, closely studying the prince’s expression. Nothing but surprise there. “I’m a bit nervous.”

Apparently it worked. Prince Papyrus’ eyes widened, and he returned his smile. “Oh!” He reached out, taking Rus’ hands in his own, and he immediately unclenched them. The prince squeezed gently. “I’m honoured to be your first. We’ll go slow, I promise.”

He exhaled, the tiniest hint of relief washing over him. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

This time, when the prince leaned in for a kiss, he closed his eyes and met it, ignoring the terror in his soul.

What else could he do, after all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was fun to write! I'm quite enjoying this AU! Tell me what you think!! Should I write more?


	19. The Dark Brotherhood pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm renaming _Assassination, The Dark Brotherhood_ because we might be getting a couple of these
> 
> Let's see what Red is doing for now, eh
> 
> Warnings: murder, blood, it get's... suggestive... in the end

Evening was already falling as the city guards opened the gates to Riften. Red nodded at them, grinning, as they greeted him cheerfully. People in Riften were suspicious of outsiders, with all right, but he’d been coming here for years now and knew mostly everyone in the entire city. Though they didn’t know him as Red the assassin, no. To them, he was a travelling bard named Cherry. He’d even had a certificate from the Bard’s College in Solitude faked, just in case, and they had enough contacts within the college itself that he would be backed up if someone declared him a liar.

The streets were mostly empty this late. There were a few guards, a couple people straying toward the tavern, and some tradesmen packing up for the night. A child rushed past him, carrying a package of fish, and he saluted them, receiving a happy wave in return. Turning around the corner, he stepped up to the front door of The Bee and the Barb, his favourite tavern.

As he stepped in, the warmth washing over him, he quickly studied the room. The doors were easy to access, and lots of open surfaces, as always. Most of the people in here were half-drunk, except for the three people in Thieves’ Guild-armour playing cards in the corner. Those people ruled this city, Red knew, and controlled the Jarl’s every decision. The real power laid in the Ratways beneath Riften. The old sewers.

Within a second, he’d analysed the room, and found his target. The Jarl’s son, sitting together with those thieves, playing cards. Red’s client wanted him dead, and Red would deliver. Why, he hadn’t been told, but it was none of his business even though he could guess. He was a hopeless gambler who never paid up his debts.

No specifications on the method, only that it should happen in plain sight. That would crave finesse, if he didn’t want his prospects for future undercover visits to Riften to disappear, and admittedly, that was his brother’s forte, not his. Red was more of a beat them ‘til they die and throw them in a ditch-kind of assassin. But since he knew Riften better than anyone – even Razz and Slim who’d lived here for a while, since they’d been too young to explore – he’d been given this mission, and recruited Slim for assistance His fellow Brother was a good assassin on his own, but _extraordinary_ when working together with someone.

At least, if it all went to hell, some of the thieves owed him.

Realizing that he’d showed up, Torbjörn, the red-bearded man behind the counter, waved. “Cherry! Nice to see you again, my friend. Had any adventures since your last visit?”

Heaving himself up on the table nearest to the counter, he shrugged, pulling down the lute he had tied to his back, next to his bow. A bow of his own design: it looked almost exactly like your average hunter’s bow but was ten times as powerful. He thrummed at the strings, tuning the instrument somewhat. “Nothin’ much, unless ya count only just escapin’ a pack o’ wolves near Dawnstar.”

“Oh those wolves,” a light voice commented. Maj, the owner of the tavern and Torbjörn’s wife, put down a mug full of ale next to him with a thump. “Always causing trouble.” She nodded toward the mug. “On the house.”

Of course it was. If they wanted a bard to play and lure in customers, they better not demand said bard pay for their own food. Nonetheless he nodded, smiling at her. “Thanks, ’preciate it.”

“Our pleasure, we’re always happy to see you.” She meant it too, which honestly only made Red’s reason to be here so much funnier. It wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy his visits in Riften, because he did, or their company, or the fact that he’d had them fooled for years, but the mere thought of what she’d say if she knew he was here for the Brotherhood, to assassinate the Jarl’s son in exchange for gold, made him grin.

“Watcha want me to play?” he asked, raising his voice. Requests rained down until he pulled his fingers over the strings, and the first tunes formed. A hush fell over the room. “ _From the mists of the mountains, a deafening call bellows over the plains. On a host of battle-worn ears does it fall, pushing out through the thunder and rain_ …”

 _Sovnagarde_. The favourite song of many Nords. His voice was rough but strong and pleasant to listen to. Red knew he was a good singer, and a good lute-player. As he moved his fingers over the strings of his instrument, he regarded the room. Everyone’s eyes were on him. _Perfect_. Even Maj, as she went around serving drinks, rarely took her eyes off him. Especially when he embroidered out the interlude, concentrating hard on making it as complicated as he could. To win their attention.

He certainly wasn’t enjoying the awe on their faces.

A crash echoed through the room, followed by a scream. A horrible noise went through the room as Red raked his claws over the strings deliberately before cutting off, and he twisted around on the table just in time to see the Jarl’s son slide to the ground with a moan. In the corner of his eye, a dark-dressed man slid out the nearby door. As he fell, his head nearly fell off. A long, bleeding slit had cut it halfway through. It was an effort to look horrified instead of breaking out in a grin, and his face tensed.

One of the thieves the target had been playing cards with sank down to his side, feeling for his pulse. He shook his head. “Dead.” That woke everyone up, and two men rushed out the door where Slim had disappeared.

Glancing around the room, Red found that the crash had come from Maj dropping her tray. The ale bottle had turned into a thousand pieces, and the liquid was seeping into the wooden floor.

“Someone, call the guards!” someone else screamed. Oh dammit did they already think of that? Sometimes the shock would be enough to grant them a couple minutes to escape. Not that Red would be escaping tonight, but Slim absolutely would. Hopefully he was already halfway out of Riften by now, and then he’d ride straight back to the Sanctuary and let everyone know the mission was a success. As Red shifted, the money in his moneybag moved by his leg. The money he’d gotten paid for this. Two hundred septim. A third had gone to him, a third to Slim, and a third to the Sanctuary itself.

Soon, guards swarmed the place, hoisting out the body and questioning folks. But no one bothered to ask him: after all, every soul in the tavern could witness that he’d been much too busy playing lute to murder someone in plain sight without being noticed. They could witness that _everyone_ had been looking at him, much too busy listening to pay attention to the stranger who’d swept by.

The tavern was full of frantic activity as he made his way up to Torbjörn, who was still behind the desk, deathly pale. “I assume I ain’t singin’ anymore tonight,” he said. “My usual room?”

Torbjörn nodded, moving on autopilot as he stuck in his hand beneath the desk and handed Red the metal key. He blinked before finally actually looking at Red again. “I’m real sorry your first day in Riften in months ended like this.”

“It’s not yer fault,” Red pointed out, smiling sympathetically. It turned into a smirk. “Unless yer th’ murderer, o’ course.” When Torbjörn flinched, he schooled his face into something apologetic. “Sorry, bad taste. But I’ll be continuing on my way tomorrow. ‘M going ta Fort Dawnguard. Th’ vampire hunters may need some entertainment, dontcha think?”

“You’re a kind soul, Cherry.” His voice sounded a bit distant, as though he was close to fainting.

Red grinned at him. “Ya should probably sit down.” Twisting the key around his finger, he turned nodded. “G’night. I hope this mess gets cleaned up soon.”

“Goodnight.”

As soon as he got up to his room, he broke out into a huge grin. Holy shit that had been _too easy_.

* * *

The journey home took close to two days since he had to take an extra tour toward Fort Dawnguard, but as he finally stepped through the Black Door into the Sanctuary and heard the familiar sound of Razz bragging about his latest kill in the next room, he couldn’t help but grin. As he stepped into the great stone hall, he saw Razz lounging against one of the stone pillars, smirking as he spoke with Axe, who was tending to her battle axe. What her born name was, Red hadn’t the faintest idea, and neither did he care. _Axe_ was a Sister of the Brotherhood and that’s all that mattered where they were concerned.

“-five people,” Razz said, pride lacing his voice, “and I was in the corner, knife to my target’s neck. I _slit her throat_ , drew my sword, and then-”

“I’m sure you were awesome, darlin’,” Red interrupted, putting his arms over Razz’s shoulders from behind and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Razz shut up, throwing him an annoyed glare. Hidden affection glimmered in there, just like Red liked it. They were both emotionally dysfunctional assholes and that was perfect. He wouldn’t want it any other way.

“And how did you mission go?” Razz asked, leaning into his embrace despite how his gaze didn’t soften in the least. “Left the actual work to my brother, I hear?”

“Yeah Red, that was real unlike you,” Axe commented, pressing her fingertip against the edge of her weapon, grinning gleefully as it immediately drew blood.

“Hey,” he protested, frowning. “I enjoy Riften, ‘s an awfully immoral city an’ tha’ fits me. Doesn’t matter much if the people o’ Solitude knows ‘m an assassin, but I’d rather be able ta go back to the Rift without gettin’ hunted.”

It was only the people they needed to worry about, though. The Jarls, or the High Queen, would never put a price on a member of the Dark Brotherhood, risking making enemies out of them. They were a… necessary evil, he believed they said. A service the rich and powerful wanted to have at hand, and so they could hardly hunt them down. After all, wouldn’t it be unfortunate if you couldn’t arrange _incidents_ for your enemies every now and then?

“Coward.”

Chuckling, Red fingered at the knife Razz had strapped to his leg as always. For a moment, he considered stealing it before Razz’s fingers closed around his, the tips of his claws digging into the bone.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned. “I will _cut you_.”

“Is that an invitation?” Red purred into his ear, grin growing as a faint purple tinted Razz’s cheeks and his glare grew more vicious, but he did let go. That knife had been Razz’s first own weapon, and he treasured it like nothing else. He’d been given it when he was ten and deemed skilled enough to carry a weapon. He’d been so proud.

Despite his blush, Razz twisted his head around, clamping down on Red’s neck. Red hissed, sparks travelling down his back. “Shut up, asshole,” Razz muttered. “Later, maybe.”

“Ey, you two. Keep it decent. I don’t wanna watch this.”

Red stuck out his tongue at her.

A head stuck out from around the corner, and blue eyes peered at them, flickering nervously between them. Blue. He and his brother had been here for a week, and both of them had yet to get accustomed to it. They were incredibly jumpy, and obviously terrified of most of them. Not that Red could blame them, they were an intimidating sort. “Uhm, Axe?” Blue almost squeaked as all of their eyes fell on him. “Master Wingdings has a job for you. In the alchemy lab.”

Grinning in delight, Axe swung her axe over her shoulder, nodding. “Awesome. I was growing bored.”

“Kill well,” Razz wished her.

“Oh, I will.”

As she disappeared toward the alchemy lab, Blue lingered, as though he was uncertain where he was supposed to be now. Red didn’t know much about the newcomers’ background, except that Blue had hired Razz to kill the woman who raised them – which didn’t exactly paint a pretty picture – so he was going to excuse that kind of uncertainty for once. “Ey, Blue,” he called. Blue twitched, eyes immediately on him. “Come down an’ join us. Razz an’ I were just going ta grab a bite.”

“We’re we?” Razz raised an eyebrow, and Red nodded.

“We were. ‘M _starvin’_. Haven’t had food all day.” As on que, his stomach growled, and he pointed. “See?”

Snorting, Razz nodded. Blue approached, obviously still hesitant around Red, but they didn’t give him a chance to worry. He grabbed Razz’s wrist, and Razz grabbed Blue’s, and like that they marched into the kitchen. Just as Red reached out to open the dark wooden door, it was thrown open, and his soul jumped up in his throat as he threw himself backwards instinctually, just in time avoid getting it in his face.

Stretch rushed out of the kitchen, fury sparking in his eyelights. Blue squeaked his name, but he didn’t as much as glance at them before leaving toward the sleeping area. Wide-eyed, Red looked into the kitchen, only to see his brother standing leaned against the wall, stirring a teacup. His expression was completely neutral as he followed Stretch with his gaze before it flickered down to Red.

“What the fuck was that?” Red asked. Yeah Edge could be irritating but what the hell had he done to get Stretch up in a rage? The same person who – just like Blue – flinched if they moved too fast?

Edge considered for a moment before replying. “Just a… disagreement. Nothing you need to worry about, brother.” Without another word, he shouldered his way past them, toward the training room. Undoubtedly, they’d be hearing a sword against dummies soon.

Shrugging, Red stepped into the kitchen, grabbing some of the bread and dried meat on the shelves, shoving it into his mouth. Razz made a disgusted noise. Both of them handed Blue some of it as well – he still hadn’t quite gotten used to the concept of free access to the food, it seemed. But once he had his hands on it, he devoured it, just like Red.

“Where’s Slim?” He hadn’t seen him yet. Of course, that didn’t mean much, Slim wasn’t a very sociable person, and would often be found alone in the rafters with a book or something along those lines.

Razz shrugged. “Windhelm, I believe. Wingdings gave him a new contract as soon as he came home.” His eyes suddenly sparkled with glee. “From what I heard, it seems it’s going to be bloody, and all over Skyrim in a few days. It’s the High Queen’s advisor he’s taking down.”

“Oh _nice_.” He chuckled, patting Blue’s shoulder. “C’mon, don’t look so frightened. Yer one o’ us now, not gonna hurt ya.”

Blue’s shoulders sank, and he exhaled. “I know. I know.”

Raising an eyebrow, Red reached for a bottle of mead. He wasn’t so sure Blue did know, but it’d come eventually. Wasn’t surprising if he wasn’t particularly inclined to trust a bunch of assassins within a week, after all. In fact, that’d be quite stupid of him, even if he couldn’t do much if they _did_ turn against him.

“If ya say so,” he said, taking a gulp of the mead, tasting of honey, before sending the bottle over to Razz. Razz held eye contact as he followed suit, an indirect kiss, causing Red to stiffen. Oh _hell_ Red was getting him in bed later. He let out a growl as Razz licked his teeth and smirked.

“Blue,” he murmured, standing up abruptly. Blue’s gaze flickered to him. “Maybe you should leave.”

When Blue glanced at Razz, Razz’s grin grew wicked. With a nod, he basically fled, and as soon as the door slammed shut, Razz was on the table. With a growl of his own, he grabbed Red’s collar and pressed their teeth together, raking his fingers up his side. Red shivered, grinning into the rough kiss.

Fuck ‘ _later’_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fun. I need a nickname for Fell Alphys though, anyone who has any suggestions?
> 
> Here's the song Red is singing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8BHKLVr_Cxw


	20. Muffins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to For the Dancing and the Dreaming and just wanted some tooth-rotting sweetness
> 
> Twistedmapleblossom
> 
> (Twistfell Papyrus/Swapfell Papyrus/Undertale Papyrus)

The kitchen was sunny and the metal bowl with muffin batter gleamed in the light coming in through the enormous window that took up almost the entire wall. Humming, Papyrus glanced outside at the street where the neighbourhood kids were playing basketball. Their laughter reached him through the glass, and he couldn’t help but smile. The warm breeze danced in the rose bushes and apple trees in the garden and music played from the stereo on one of the kitchen benches.

Tasting the batter, Papyrus licked his finger thoughtfully before adding in some more grated lemon peel. When he tasted it again, he nodded. Better. Moving the whisk enthusiastically through the daffodil-yellow batter, he turned away from the bench, smile widening. At the circular kitchen table, Twist and Slim sat in front of two baking tins. Neat rows of colourful muffin moulds covered the tins. He beamed at them both.

“Very good!” he said, holding out the whisk to drip some batter down on their hands. “Tell me what you think.”

Twist regarded him with amusement and affection shining in his eyes. “Ain’t exactly a difficult job, darlin’, to put out moulds,” he pointed out, but obediently tasted the muffins. Papyrus made them with as little sweetness as possible, so he could enjoy them as well. It was only well and good with healthy muffins anyway, and Slim could certainly use to eat a tad less sugar. Twist grinned as he sucked on his fingers, wrapping his tongue around them. His grin only widened as Papyrus stared down at him, unimpressed. “’S amazing as always, Paps.”

Pleased, Papyrus turned to Slim, who smiled and nodded. His eyelights were soft and warm as he met Papyrus’ gaze. “Delicious.”

Papyrus’ soul warmed as he looked at them both, and his face felt as though it’d break from how wide his smile was. Oh stars, how had he gotten this lucky? However great he was, _what_ had he done to deserve these two? When he voiced his questions, their eyes widened.

“Hey, sweetheart. Sweetheart.” Twist stared at him, disbelief written over his face. Reaching out, he grabbed Papyrus’ hand, squeezing lightly. “ _Sweetheart_. If there’s anyone who’ve been lucky here, ‘s us. ‘Specially me. Yer th’ Great Papyrus. What ‘ave _I_ ever done ta deserve _ya_?”

Chuckling, Papyrus squeezed his hand back. He leaned down to kiss first Twist’s brow, then Slim’s. As he did, he put down the bowl of batter on the table. “Well, among other things, held out long enough that your LV-issues would be resolved! That was truly great of you. Also, you’re one of the most loyal and loving people I know, and doing your best to be a great person! What _haven’t_ you done? I’m so proud of you!”

The fight had been long and difficult, and Papyrus had more than once feared Twist wasn’t going to make it. That Edge, or Red, or Razz, or whoever was around at the moment, would have to dust him. But he’d always come back to himself. Always come back to _them_ , to him and Slim. Even when he tried to distance himself for ‘their sake’. The day when Doctor Alphys had let them know they’d found a cure… And then when Twist truly had recovered… Papyrus wasn’t ashamed to admit he’d cried for the first time in many years. Tears of joy.

“Aw, gee, Pap.” Twist rubbed his neck, gold tinting his cheeks. _Adorable_. “Yer too good fer me.”

“Nonsense, Twisted-Me! Slim, tell him he’s being a- unreasonable!”

Twist raised an eyebrow. “A unreasonable?”

Papyrus nodded authoritatively. “Yes.” He refused to ever call Twist ‘dumb’ or ‘stupid’, like he did with his brother or Undyne. Once he realized how little the other thought of his intelligence, he decided he wasn’t going to add onto that. Even though it was somewhat difficult to get out of the speech patterns he’d had his whole life. He was working on it!

“You’re being a unreasonable,” Slim said, grinning, and Papyrus sent him a good-natured glare. Betrayal.

Waving his whisk in the air, he turned toward the desk to get spoons. Once he’d retrieved them and looked back, he stopped. He narrowed his eyes at Slim, who had his hands in the bowl. He yelped as he noticed Papyrus was back, shoving his hand in his mouth. Papyrus sighed, shaking his head. “Honestly, can’t you wait? You’ll get the bowl once I’m done with it.”

“Sorry Pap.” But while his smile was apologetic, the mischief glimmering in his eyes told another story.

Snorting, Papyrus shook his head as he started putting the batter into the moulds. “I’m sure.”

“Aw, don’t be like tha’ you two.” Twist threw his arms over both their shoulders, moving them until all three of their skulls bumped together. His grin was softer than usual as he pecked both their cheeks. “Love you both.”

Papyrus’ soul warmed, and he nuzzled into Twist’s neck. “We love you too.”

Slim nodded. Then, before Papyrus could react, his hand leaped out and dug into the bowl again. His grin was shit eating as he very deliberately licked it off. Papyrus sighed loudly.

“What am I going to do with you two?”

Twist wiggled his eyebrows. “I ‘ave some ideas, precious.”

Papyrus swatted him with the spoon. “I’m sure you do. Now let me get these muffins done already, you two, and maybe we can get to those ideas later.”

And immediately the two of them even _sat_ straight. He rolled his eyes with a fond smile, watching them as he finished dividing the batter into the moulds. Angel, what _had_ he done to deserve those two idiots?”


	21. Tangled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the first part of the Tangled AU I wrote a good while ago. I still think this thing is the most adorable thing  
> They're humans though, because Tangled
> 
> Warnings: child abuse (bc Mother Gothel)

His stomach growled. Red clutched it, trying to keep it quiet. He’d already had dinner and the caretaker didn’t like when he disturbed the other kids. She didn’t like when anyone disturbed someone else. The other kids didn’t like him particularly either, he knew. He was weird. Too quiet. Not like he could help it, though. He had tried to talk. To make noises. It didn’t work. He did it best to ignore it, turning back to the pretty pictures in his book. Some nice people had given them to the orphanage the other day. He couldn’t read them, but he liked the colours. He smiled as he turned page and traced the picture of a chameleon. Sometimes he wished he was one. Chameleons were cool, and fit in everywhere.

The bedroom was quiet, but the playroom next door was loud. Therefore, it was easy to hear the other children laugh. Red’s stomach hurt a little, only partially from hunger. Doing his best to ignore them, he looked at the next page. A horse. While scratching his arm – his wool jumper was itchy – he imagined riding one. To have it run fast in the wind and sunshine. That was only fine folk who did though. Not street kids like them.

Suddenly the door opened, and he looked up. It was Miss Hanna, their caretaker. She smiled at him. Red smiled back. She was nice. “Hey, Red, come with me.”

Nodding, he slipped out of the bed. As he walked over to her, he had to tie the rope holding his trousers up a little tighter. They were a little too big. She waved him with her, though the wooden hallways of the house. A few of the older kids who helped cleaning the floor greeted him. Shyly, Red waved back. The older kids were often kind. They called him ‘cute’.

He frowned as they walked into the office. Why was he here? Only those who would be adopted came here. But no one would want a kid who couldn’t talk. That was what the other children said. Even the older ones. And they were big, they must be right. A woman sat in the chair next to the desk. Red blinked, staring at her with wide eyes. Black, big hair and a sharp nose. She was pretty. But she also looked a bit scary. He grabbed Miss Hanna’s skirt, staring up at her. She smiled reassuringly before turning to the lady.

“This is Red, Madame,” she said. “He’s mute, and quite shy. Will he do?”

Without a word, the lady stood up. Red stumbled backwards a step before bracing himself under her scrutinizing eyes. Unable, to help himself, he only held her gaze for a few seconds before averting his eyes. He fiddled with the sleeve of his grey shirt.

“Let’s see,” she finally said. Her voice sounded strict. Red forced himself to stand still as she knelt in front of him. Her dark green dress rustled as she did. It was a lovely dress. She grabbed his face, and he obediently followed as she turned his face, studying him. It was uncomfortable. She held a little too hard. But then she smiled as she stood up. She had a nice smile. “Yes, I think he will. My daughter will love to have him as a brother.”

Miss Hanna smiled, and nodded. She looked down at him. “Red, scurry up and gather your things. Madame Gothel here is going to adopt you. She’ll be your new mother.”

Gaping at her, Red turned to stare at Madame Gothel instead. She  _would?_  He would get a mother? A sister? She nodded sharply, and he smiled widely and ran back to the bedroom. There he quickly gathered his few belongings; another wool jumper, a book, and a teddy bear. When he came back, Miss Hanna bowed down in front of him and pulled him into a hug. He hugged back tightly.

“Bye, sweetheart,” she told him, letting go. “Be good to your new mother, okay?”

Nodding in confirmation, he walked up to Madame Gothel. She smiled, and took his hand before telling Miss Hanna goodbye. Red followed her outside, blinking as the sunlight blinded him for a second. He held up his other arm to shield his eyes as she didn’t stop. He gasped as she led him toward a big, brown horse and threw his things into its saddlebag. A  _horse_.

“Alright, Red, you just sit in front of me and don’t fall off,” she said as she grabbed him and hoisted him up on the saddle. Red’s eyes widened at how high up he was. The horse was so  _big_. He grabbed the mane tightly as Madame Gothel swung herself up on it. Before he could quite process what was happening, she steered the horse out on the street.

* * *

Red stared at the room, wide-eyed and in awe. The ride here had been scary, and the tower he apparently should live in was so  _big_ , but this room was so pretty. Wide and open and so much colour. The lower parts of the walls were splattered in paint and there were so much  _toys_. He’d never seen something like it. As he kept staring, Madame Gothel hung up her cape on a hook.

“Blue, my flower!” she called out, voice cheery and loud. Red spun around as a shuffling noise came, wondering from where. Was it his new sister? “I have a surprise for you!”

“What is it, Mother?” a light voice came from upstairs, and the door creaked as a little girl stuck in her head. She had the most golden hair Red had ever seen. It almost shone. The girl’s eyes widened as she caught sight of him and she almost ran downstairs. She faced him, studying him curiously. She wore a huge smile. “Who’re you?”

Red only shrugged. He couldn’t reply to that question. To most questions, really.

“Who  _are_  you, flower,” Madame Gothel corrected sternly, and the girl blushed slightly. “This is Red. Don’t expect a reply, he can’t talk. Red, this is Blue. You’re to keep her company and keep her happy. Do you understand?”

Nodding obediently, he looked at Blue. She held out her hand, and he couldn’t help but smile as he shook it hesitantly. Her own brightened.

“Hello, Red!” she said cheerfully. “I’m glad to meet you! We’ll have so much fun together!”


	22. Beautiful Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Cherryberry
> 
> Warnings: domestic abuse, emotional manipulation, violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you read the warnings! This isn't nice

Smutting on his glass of whisky, with one leg thrown over the other, Edge regarded his brother. They were sitting on the living room couch in his house, sunlight dancing in through the huge windows. Red had a glass of water on the coffee table instead of the whisky he had been offered: he didn’t drink anymore. Neither did he smoke. Or take place like he always did. Instead of spreading out on the couch, lounging and throwing his feet up on the cushions despite Edge’s complaints, he sat neatly, his hands in his lap.

“Do you want me to get some mustard?” he asked, keeping his voice gentle.

Red shook his head. “No thank you.” His voice was quiet, lacking the powerful, comforting loudness he’d always had. “How is work?”

It was worrying, to say the least. _No thank you_. When had Red ever been polite? A couple years ago, Edge would’ve readily agreed that his brother needed to stop smoking, stop drinking himself into a stupor multiple days a week. Now, however, he wanted nothing more than to offer Red whisky again, or beer, or anything he wanted. He’d even happily mix in mustard in it. But no, he couldn’t.

 _Where did you get those bruises?_ The question rested on the tip of is tongue. That one of them was scarred, injured, was once not even noteworthy unless it was serious damage. But they were on the Surface, in a _Taleverse_. And he’d seen the marks on Red’s arms before he pulled down his jacket-sleeves. He _saw_ the red tint to his cheek. It wasn’t easy to bruise bone.

He didn’t ask. The last time he’d demanded answers, he hadn’t seen Red for weeks. It had almost killed him, and when he searched him out, his brother’s fiancé had in no uncertain terms told him Red didn’t want to see him.

“Good,” he replied instead, twirling the golden liquid around his glass. “We’re close to a breakthrough. I’m certain banning monsters from establishments will be illegal in no time. It’s a great step forward.”

Chuckling, Red nodded. It eased something inside of him, to hear his brother laugh. “You’re so cool, Pap.”

And where had his accent gone? Yes, it was a trained accent, not a natural one, but he’d been talking like gutter trash since he was a preteen. It shouldn’t go away just like that. Edge smiled at him, slowly reaching out to place his hand on top of the other’s. Red flinched.

“Would you like to stay for dinner, brother? I’m making lasagne.” It wasn’t what he’d planned to do, but it was Red’s favourite in his repertoire. Anything to keep him here for a while longer. He felt a pang in his soul as Red shook his head, fishing up his phone from his pocket and glancing down at him.

“Sorry,” he said, eyes flickering toward the entrance hall. “Blue is here. I’ve got to go.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Edge nodded. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

When he opened them again, he found Red looking at him with concern, and he shook his head, standing up. “Let’s not keep your fiancé waiting.”

Red nodded his agreement. As they made their way into the entrance hall, Edge didn’t take his eyes off him. It scared him, how much his brother had changed. And it scared him even more that he could do nothing about it, because Red would immediately cut off contact if he tried. He’d already done so twice. Once Red had pulled on his sneakers, tying the laces neatly, Edge placed a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up at him in surprise.

“If you ever need somewhere to go,” Edge murmured, “no matter why or when, you’re always welcome here, you know that, right?”

Blinking, Red nodded. He smiled, but it was small, shaky. “Yeah.”

Edge nodded as well. It knocked on the door. Taking a deep breath, he reached out to open it. A skeleton was revealed, but not the skeleton he’d expected. Razz. Blue was there too, but out on the street, standing by his dark blue motorcycle. Edge watched him for a mere moment before turning to Razz, who was dressed in one of his work suits. Razz’s eyes widened as he saw Red, and even more so as he looked him over.

“I-” he began, cutting himself off. His eyes flickered up at Edge before they went back to Red. “Red.”

A shiver travelled up Red’s spine as he smiled quickly at Razz before glancing past him. Wondering how he was going to get out when Razz was blocking the door, most likely. “Hi.”

Unease coiled in Edge’s stomach as Razz reached out to put a hand on Red’s arm, and Red shook it off, drawing backwards into him. Hurt flashed over Razz’s face, but he didn’t try again. Instead he looked up at him. “I came to drop of some details about the upcoming hearing.”

“Ah, good.” Edge gestured for him to come in, and he did. Immediately, Red circled around toward the door. “Brother, are you certain you don’t want to stay?” _You used to be best friends with Razz, even date him for a while. Now you will hardly look at him. Why?_

Shaking his head, Red stepped toward the door, nodding toward Blue. Despite how he smiled, impatience was written over his face. “Blue is cooking.”

“Very well. I hope I’ll see you soon, Red.”

Red smiled at him, sincerer this time. His golden tooth gleamed in the sunshine. “I do too.”

Then he exited, hurrying over to Blue. Without exchanging a word with him, Blue handed him a motorcycle helmet, Red climbed up behind him, and they were off with a roar.

“Is he okay?” Razz asked, frowning.

Edge shook his head. “Not in the least.”

If only Red would _talk with him_ , so they could find some _evidence_. His hands trembled as he turned to Razz. “Now what did you have to give me?”

* * *

The motorcycle came to a stop outside of their house. It wasn’t a particularly big house, but it had a small garden and more than enough place for two skeletons their size. Climbing off the motorcycle, Red smiled at his fiancé, though it fell when he saw the dark expression on Blue’s face.

“Sweetheart?”

Without a word, Blue locked the motorcycle in place before grabbing Red’s wrist and pulling him into the house. He hissed in pain as Blue’s fingers pressed against the bruises. He only let go to quickly unlock the door before shoving him inside and locking the door behind them. Red remained quiet the entire time, his soul fluttering anxiously. What had he done wrong now? What had he fucked up? Swallowing, he knelt down to take off his shoes before placing them neatly on the shoe stand. His fingers trembled as he waited while Blue did the same.

Once everything was in place, and Blue had pulled down the blinds over the windows – which increased Red’s trembling, it rarely meant anything good when they were down – he glared at him. Red fought to keep eye contact. Blue didn’t like it when he averted his eyes.

“Did you know Razz would be there?” he demanded, grabbing Red’s arms. Red tensed, his instincts screaming at him to pull away. He forced himself to relax. Good, functional people weren’t terrified of being held in place. “You’re not trying to _cheat on me_ , are you?”

He shook his head frantically, soul skipping a beat. “N-no! No, Blue, sweetheart, I swear I didn’t! I _wouldn’t_ , I love you, only you, you know that!”

“Do I?” Blue asked, staring at him. Red ground his teeth together, trying to keep his bones from chattering. The grip on his wrists hardened, sending a flash of pain through him, before it softened. “I suppose I do.” Red sagged in relief. “You did pull away when he touched you, which was good of you. You know I don’t like it when other people touch you. Especially not Razz. He’s a bad influence.”

“I know,” Red agreed, relieved he could show he was trying to be better, to heal. Blue was only trying to help him stop being such a _Fellverse_ fuckup, and he loved him for it. “I love you.”

When Blue smiled at him, he couldn’t help but smile back. It was such a gentle smile, and Blue put his hand against his cheek, making him lean down so he could press a kiss to his teeth. “I love you too, Red. I’m only trying to help.”

“I know,” he breathed again, staying bowed down and nuzzling into his fiancé’s neck. Blue giggled as he intertwined their fingers, pressing a kiss to their matching engagement rings. Blue had proposed half a year ago, which was when Red quit his job as a teacher. As Blue said, he was unfit to be around children – he was violent, foul, a _murderer_ – and Blue could provide them both with a comfortable life. “And I appreciate it so much. You’re so good to me, starlight.”

“I am, am I not?” Blue replied brightly, pulling away. Disappointment filled Red, but he didn’t reach out after him. When he’d tried that, he’d scared Blue, who’d thought his LV was acting up. Phantom pains flared up in his ribs at the thought, from when Blue had defended himself. “I’m going to cook, so why don’t you go clean up the living room like you promised?”

Red nodded eagerly. “Of course.”

The smile Blue gave him made his soul soar.

* * *

Dinner was delicious as always – Blue had made Beuf Bourguignon and beamed adorably when Red praised his food. Smiling, he scratched his fingers over Red’s leg beneath the table as Red shovelled food into his mouth. God he was starving, hadn’t had anything since breakfast, and the scent of warm meat and spices made his mouth water. Together with the sensation of Blue’s fingers sending sparks up his body, everything was almost overwhelmingly good.

His phone was on the table, and while they ate, Blue tapped in the code and scrolled through his messages. Not that they were a lot of those: a couple texts from his brother, Sans letting him know about an upcoming meteor shower, that kind of stuff. Just as he exited the text message app and went to open up Red’s Twitter, which he rarely used anymore, the phone blipped. Curiosity rose in Red but he didn’t lean over to see who it was. Blue had the phone right now. As he picked up the message, his expression went dark and he wrote in a reply, sending it away with a swish.

Red froze with a forkful halfway to his mouth as he saw Blue’s mood change. The phone was shoved in his face, and Blue stood, towering over him. “What the _hell_ is this, Red?”

He pulled it far away that Red could actually read what it said. His eyes widened, a confused whimper catching in his throat.

_Razz: Are you okay? Edge said you’re not, and he sounded very tired when he said it. Do you need legal assistance? I’ll do it for free._

_Me: I’m perfectly fine. I don’t want to talk to you. Don’t contact me again._

“I- I-” Red began, struggling to get the words out. Especially as Blue shoved it into his face again, the light from the screen stinging his eyes. His breathing got heavier. “I don’t know, I swear. I didn’t do nothin’ ta make him- I didn’t do anything, I promise. I would never, sweetheart, I wouldn’t.”

A stinging pain flared on his cheek as Blue’s palm collided with it. “Shut the fuck up,” Blue snapped, planting his hands on the table. Red closed his mouth with a clack. “You obviously did _something_ if Razz is wondering. You realize that none of them will understand, right? They won’t understand that I’m helping you, that I’m doing this for your own best. They’d try to take you away from me and regress you back to your old violent and horrible self, take away all the progress you’ve made. You’re almost civilized.”

Red nodded so hard his neck ached. Fingers closed around his jaw, holding his face completely still as Blue stared him straight in the eyes. His expression softened as he saw Red’s panicked expression. His soul pounded in panic, and his breathing had shallowed. They couldn’t- He couldn’t let anyone do that, take Blue away from him. He _couldn’t_.

Now cooing, Blue pressed a chaste kiss to the top of his skull. His fingers were still squeezing Red’s jaw. “You don’t want that, do you? Not now when we’re so close to being married. Together forever, you and me. You’ll be _mine_ , body and soul.” He giggled, nuzzling Red. “And I’ll be yours, of course.”

Despite the uncomfortable pressure to his jaw, Red relaxed into Blue, his entire body sinking into Blue’s soft, perfect bones. He glanced at him through half-lidded eyes. At his bare arms, so perfectly white, and at his face, completely unscarred, teeth even. Blue was so good. So perfect. So _beautiful_. Self-conscious, he pulled down the sleeves of his jacket over his hands. Such a contrast to him. Scarred. Broken. Ugly. Why Blue wanted him, he couldn’t understand, but he was so grateful for it.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, guilt rising in him. Blue was so good to him and he made Razz and his brother think he wasn’t okay? “Whatever I did to make Razz think something is wrong, I won’t do it again, sweetheart. I’ll be better.”

“I know you will.” Blue’s fingers finally let up around his jaw and Red almost gasped in relief, opening and closing it a couple times. Blue pecked it. “That’s why I love you. Because you’re always working to better yourself!” He sat back down in his own chair, nodding for Red that he could continue to eat. Red did so. Every bite was full of Blue’s love and the magic and care in the food rushed through him, energizing him, healing his wounds. That was the reason Blue didn’t want him to eat things he hadn’t made: he wanted to keep track of the magic Red digested so it wouldn’t have any ill intent.

“But,” Blue added after a moment, “you won’t speak to Razz, you understand that? Or Slim, or those who interact with either of them. I don’t want them being bad influences on you. And you know to tell me if Edge starts behaving improperly?”

Though phrased like a question, Red knew a command when he heard it. He swallowed the food in his mouth before he nodded. “Of course,” he replied mildly. “I told you last time, didn’t I?” When Edge had called what Blue was doing _abuse_. It had evolved into a shouting match, and as soon as Red had felt his LV flaring, he’d teleported straight to Blue, despite him being at work. Blue had, blessedly, decided for him it was better he didn’t see his brother for a while until Edge learnt not to spread untruths. It was so lucky Blue could do that, if Blue hadn’t been there to take care of him he would’ve gone straight into a panic attack.

“You did, and you were very good,” Blue agreed. “It must’ve been hard, but you did the right thing. Well!” He stood up. “Since I’ve been at work all day and then cooked while you were lazying around here, it’s only fair if you clean up, right?”

It was, Red agreed. Blue provided for them both _and_ made sure they had great food to eat. Doing some chores was the least he could do in return. Plus, it gave him something to do those days when he missed his job as a Physics teacher so much it hurt his soul. But it was for the best, he’d remind himself. He didn’t want to hurt the children.

Smiling brightly, Blue jumped toward the door. “Wonderful. Clean up, wash yourself, and then come to our room. I’ll be waiting!” He winked, and Red’s cheeks flushed crimson. With a last giggle, he left, the sound of his footsteps slowly dying as he went upstairs.

With a fond smile on his face, Red gathered the plates and went to put them into the sink. Warmth filled his chest.

Angel, what had he done to deserve him?


	23. Winter's Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short, odd thing based on this Disney's Hercules AU I suggested on Twitter and Kamari and I developed into a beautiful mess in a couple threads. It's pure chaos and I love it. [You can find it here](https://twitter.com/Odderancy/status/1086386715328159744) and [here's more](https://twitter.com/Odderancy/status/1086577843084165120) and here's a list of [the current... cast](https://twitter.com/Odderancy/status/1086622738628993024)
> 
> And here's as odd a rarepair as Edge/G (Echotale Sans) as Hades & Persephone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't the _faintest_ idea what G's personality is. I tried to do research but I couldn't find a single fic with him. So this is my best guess

The halls of the castle could feel incredibly empty sometimes. Particularly during summer. Edge’s footsteps echoed through the dark hallways before he stopped by a window, looking out over his kingdom. From there, he could see all of Hades: all the four rivers and every one of the four regions. His black chiton billowed around him, wreathing like smoke around his legs. The windowsill was cold beneath his hand: the entire castle was built from black marble. He sighed, leaning his jaw at his fist.

His land was beautiful, if you asked him. He couldn’t see what the other gods saw in Olympus. That place was bright and messy and loud. Down here, he was in control. Order reigned, keeping the Dead peaceful.

Well. He winced as a crash came from behind, followed by a yell. Order _almost_ reigned. He twisted around just in time to see Sans phasing through a wall, grinning like a cat who’d gotten into the milk. His teal tail whisked lazily behind him.

“ _Sans_ ,” Papyrus shouted as he came through as well, throwing himself after his brother. He glared at the shorter spirit. “Get back here and do your _fucking job_.”

Edge regarded them with suspicion. For being two of his most loyal minions, he certainly couldn’t trust them as long as their tails reached. _Pain_ was too fucking friendly, and _Panic_ was the laziest person he’d ever met in his millennia of living. Together they were pure chaos.

“Nah.”

Sans floated back toward the wall, but was obviously not about to phase through again. Toward the pedestal with an old urn on. Edge’s breath caught in his throat as he bumped into it. The spirit yelped, freezing mid-air.

With his soul in his throat, Edge lurched forward as the urn rocked. And fell. His hands closed around it, moments before it hit the floor. He stumbled forward, shoving his shoulder against the wall for balance. For a moment, he did nothing but stare at the urn. At the intricate depictions of his wedding.

Carefully, he put it back on the pedestal. When he looked up, he found the brothers staring at him, wide-eyed. A hint of fear shone in Sans’ eyes. Once he’d taken a step away from the urn, back to safe distance, he let his temper flare. He clenched his fists, flames starting to flicker, licking at his arms, as he glared at him. His blood boiled as he stared between them and the wedding urn. The urn that had _almost been broken because of Sans’ carelessness_. “Will you be _careful, you idiot!_ ”

Sans actually recoiled, nodding quickly. It wasn’t often he was actually intimidated, but perhaps he realized what he’d done was too far. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Get out.” The command was curt, and he took a few deep breaths to calm the pounding of his soul. With a quick nod, Sans sank through the floor, and he was gone. Papyrus threw him an apologetic gaze before he too disappeared, and Edge gritted his teeth. Of all _stupid things…_

“Wow. You really let this place go when I’m gone, huh?”

The sudden voice came from behind and Edge twisted around as he heard it, soul doing a somersault. His anger melted away as he stared at the skeleton leaning against the column by the wall, one hand rolling one of his infernal marrowbones stuffed with opiates between his fingers. His yellow eyelights glimmered with amusement. A flower crown of red pomegranate flowers rested on his head, a lovely contrast to his floor-length black chiton.

“G.”

Pushing himself of the wall, G smiled. “The one and only, _husband_.”

The next thing Edge knew, he was at G’s side, pulling him into his arms. His husband was a mere five centimetres shorter than him, giving him the perfect position to just breathe in his scent for a while. Opium poppies, fresh air, _spring_. And pomegranates, of course. Always pomegranates. G sneaked his arms around his waist, returning the embrace “I’ve missed you, love,” Edge murmured.

The arms around his waist tightened. “Yeah I missed you too.” He huffed, and Edge could imagine his smirk. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be here. It’s only late August after all. My brother wasn’t pleased.”

“Fuck him,” Edge said, pulling away so he could look at him. At the cracks running up and down his face from his eye sockets, the sunshine yellow of his eyelights, the perfect white bone. _Beautiful_.

G smirked, reaching up to caress his face. Edge relaxed into it. The marrowbone laid forgotten on the floor. “Absolutely not. If there’s anyone you’re fucking, it’s me.” His fingers hooked around Edge’s jaw, pulling him down and mashing their teeth together with a clack. After his initial surprise, Edge reached up to cup his head from behind, running his fingers over the lowest of the pomegranate blossoms.

The kiss was gentle. Edge smiled into it, warmth blossoming in his chest, and he stepped closer, pressing their bodies together. His soul raced and his body tingled. He breathed out as they parted. “Oh, I love you.”

A pale daffodil yellow tinted G’s cheeks. Unable to help himself, Edge ghosted his knuckles over them. So pretty.

“Yeah, yeah,” G muttered, averting his eyes. Still, the corners of his mouth curled upwards. He grabbed Edge’s hand. “Your wonderful consort is back, blah blah, your usual speech.” A wicked glint lit up his eyes and he stepped forward, forcing Edge to back up against the wall. He lifted a hand, ghosting it over Edge’s bare collarbone and in beneath his chiton. Edge shivered. “I think I have a better idea, sweetheart. Let’s announce my return in a… slightly different way this year.”

There was something almost predatory in his grin. Edge didn’t even try to hold back his own as he pulled G up against his chest again, kissing him fiercely. The other hummed into the kiss, raking his fingers over his upper ribs.

“With pleasure,” Edge purred, whisking them away. One second, they were in the hallways and in the next, he pushed G down into their huge bed. G grunted, but his smile was delighted as Edge undid the brooch holding his shoulder strap up. As it fell away, revealing G’s gorgeous ribcage, he immediately bowed down, licking a stripe. When G gasped, his grin grew wider.

“You know,” he murmured against the other’s sternum. “I do like this idea.” He bit down, drawing a whimper. “Now now, love. You wanted to announce your presence. Don’t be quiet.”

“Asshole,” G growled. But to Edge’s delight, he complied. His sounds were _delicious_.

* * *

Afterwards, as they laid curled up in each other’s arms, Edge couldn’t stop his purring. G was in his arms, _home_ again after almost six months, back in their kingdom where he belonged. He stroked his fingers over his sleeping husband’s face, smiling.

“I love you,” he mumbled, joy rushing through him at those simple words. _Six months_. Six months since he’d seen the other, since he’d last spoken them to anyone other than Doomfanger.

“Love you too,” G mumbled back, shifting in his sleep.

Edge could only sigh happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk, I kinda like 'em. It's weird but then again this entire AU is crack


	24. Thrills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon: If you’re still doing writing requests, would you be able to write some Rottenberry Bonnie and Clyde AU? If not then some normal rottenberry is all good lol
> 
> Warnings: murder, blood

As he slipped out of the car, Blue giggled, looking his husband over from top to toe. When he noticed, Razz grinned, posing with a hand on his chest before holding his out for Blue to take. _God_ he was handsome in that dark grey suit and hat of his, especially with an aubergine tie bringing out the colour of his magic. Without hesitation, he took the hand, and they made their way into the small bank. He himself was dressed very similarly, though in lighter colours and with an azure tie instead.

A bell jingled as they stepped into the bank, the coolness of the inside washing over them, and a contrast to the hotness outside. The stone floor was polished until it shone, and the desk had bars in front of it to keep people from jumping in behind. Or at least Blue assumed that was the reason: he’d never bothered asking. It was empty except for two clerks behind the counter, one brunet and one black-haired, who seemed to have been talking before they stepped in.

With a bounce in his step, Blue led his husband up to them, and Razz followed, back straight an expression guarded as always. Giggling again, Blue stroked his hand over the other’s upper arm. “Will you not hurry up, love? I’m so looking forward to going shopping with you after this.”

Rolling his eyes, annoyance written over his face, Razz placed a hand on the counter, nodding at the clerk. “I want to make a withdrawal,” he demanded. Blue continued to eye him with starry eyes, though a smirk was fighting to creep onto his face.

“How much, sir?” the brunet clerk asked, annoyance flashing over his face for a brief second at Razz’s lack of greeting.

As Razz began to reply, Blue stuck his hand into the pocket of his suit, drawing out a gun. Fast as a viper, he pointed it at the clerk, who froze, and soon Razz had his out as well, directed toward the other clerk. “How about everything?” His voice was sugar-sweet, even as his grin turned into something vicious, triumphant.

“I quite like the sound of that, starlight,” Razz murmured, every bit of exasperation gone from his face. Nothing but pure adoration shone in his eyes as he regarded Blue for a moment, which was exactly how Blue liked it, before turning back to the clerks, a grin revealing all his sharp teeth. “You heard him.” He jerked with the gun. “ _Everything_ it is.”

“Let us in,” Blue demanded, pointing at the locked door that allowed entrance in behind the desk. When they hesitated, he clicked with his tongue, flexing his fingers over his gun. “Razz, darling. How many kills do I have now?”

Razz smirked, taking his free hand to lift it to his mouth to press a gentle kiss to it. “Sixteen, I believe.”

Shaking his head, Blue sighed. “Still far from your count. It’s not fair – you got a head start.”

“Oh love, you’ve got years to win this competition. Not that you will.”

Their little conversation had the expected effect, and the clerks went white as one of them fumbled with the keys to unlock the door. Once it clicked open, Blue smiled. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, to lessen the risk one of you call for the Police-”

“No- No we wouldn’t-” they tried, but fell silent as Blue tutted, shaking his head. He pulled the trigger. The bang was deafening, echoing between the stone walls, and the black-haired one tumbled to the floor. Blue grimaced as blood sprayed from their head, soiling his shoes.

“Whoops, I slipped.” Turning to Razz, he smiled. “Now, love, why don’t we have this gentleman escort us to the vault?”

Huffing in amusement, Razz nodded. His eyelight flared purple as he turned to the clerk. “You heard him,” he said, spinning his gun on his finger before gripping it properly again. “Get going.”

With a frightened whimper, the clerk did as told.

* * *

Razz smiled at his beautiful husband’s joy as he pulled the car to a stop inside an old barn. A few drops of blood still remained splattered over Blue’s cheek, now dry. He licked his fingers before leaning over to the passenger seat to wipe it off, and Blue’s eyelights widened, turning fuzzy, as he then licked it off his own fingers. Without a word, Blue grasped his collar, pushing their teeth together in a kiss. Laughing into it, Razz replied it, his soul drumming in his chest as he stroked his fingers over the other’s cheek, explored the other’s mouth with a frantic energy. When they parted, they were both panting.

It had been the blood of the second clerk, of course. They weren’t about to leave him alive so he could call the Police, or leave a description of them. To his knowledge, people still thought they were in Louisiana, and he it was quite pleasant to have a vacation from the Police hunts for once. Not that he didn’t enjoy those too – the thrill was what he lived for. Well, that, and how _gorgeous_ Blue was when covered in someone else’s blood.

With that image before his eyes, he felt his soul skip a beat and he pulled Blue in for another kiss, but Blue chuckled and averted his eyes. He pulled out the bag from the backseat, shoving it into Razz’s arms. “Get changed, love. We’re going to the speakeasy, get rid of some of our new money.”

Razz’s grin widened as the thought of the speakeasy’s dim lights and flowing alcohol, of energy running high and how absolutely _gorgeous_ Blue would be in there.

And of what always came after they visited one of those places, after dancing, their bodies hot and close, and drinking.

Without hesitation, he pulled off his coat and hat, already imagining the possibilities. Blue eyed him knowingly, a smirk playing on his face, before he did the same.


	25. Snow Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to committ snowman genocide

Snowflakes slowly fell from the cloudy sky, landing light on the snow-covered ground. Stretch grinned as he heaved the snowman’s head up on its body. Sans handed him a top hat, which he put on before decorating an expression of surprise on its face. Behind him, Red snickered in anticipation. Otherwise the street was quiet. Being in the middle of the day, most were at work or in school. Lastly, he tied an orange and red scarf around its neck. With a pleased grin, he turned around.

“Ready?” Red asked. Glancing a last time on the _army_ of snowmen they’d built, Stretch nodded. He stepped up next to him, summoning a bone attack. Red and Sans did the same, their bones glowing crimson and blue respectively.

Someone cleared their throat behind them. Red huffed, and Stretch glanced over his shoulder, grinning. In the doorway, Edge stood, leaning against the frame. His arms were crossed and one of his eyebrows was raised. And he certainly wasn’t dressed for the weather in black jeans and a tight black sweater, but then again he wasn’t outside. And he was _certainly_ handsome.

“What are you three doing?” he asked, amusement and curiosity glittering in his eyes as he grinned.

“Committing genocide,” Sans replied, smile stretched wide over his face as he bounced a snowball in his hand. “The snowmen must be defeated before they take over the world.”

“Oh?” He disappeared from the doorway for a second before showing up again, stepping out while pulling on a black winter jacket. Closing the door behind him, he leaned against the wall. “Don’t let me stop you.”

Stretch couldn’t help but smile.

Red snapped his fingers to get their attention. “On my signal, soldiers. No survivors.” Both Stretch and Sans saluted him, keeping their bones summoned. Their eyes flashed. “Three. Two. One. _Now_.”

Bones shot out against the snowmen, piercing their bodies, Red colour spilled out from their chests, from their heads. A couple heads fell straight of, red exploding over the snow. Stretch grinned at the sight, continuing to send flurries of bones over the army of snowmen.

“They’re dead,” Red said solemnly.

Stretch exchanged a gaze with Sans. “Victory!” they both shouted, throwing themselves toward Red. And landed headfirst in the snow. It found its way into his collar, and Stretch spluttered as he stood up, glaring at the grinning Red who now stood a couple meters away, wagging his finger at them.

“Don’t even try, ashtray.”

A snowball hit the back of his head. Red hissed, twisting around. Edge’s grin was smug as he bowed down to roll another. “That’s my husband you’re talking with.”

A cruel grin stretched over Red’s face. “Oh, you’re fucking with the wrong person, _little brother_.”

Ducking down, Stretch threw a handful of snow toward him, Red side-stepped. It feel to the ground without hitting anyone. “You’re _twins_ , asshole!”

A dark chuckle was all he got in reply as Red knelt down in the snow, gathering snow in his hands.


	26. Not His Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: PTSD, flashbacks, abuse
> 
> I wanted to write Razz - who has been abused, both mentally and physically, by his queen - meeting Goat Mum

Running his fingers over the book spines lined up along the walls, Razz smiled. His eyes sparkled as he looked out over the bookshop Papyrus had brought him to. There were _so many books_. And they were available to anyone, for almost no money at all, lined up in dark brown bookshelves, filling every wall of the small shop. Never in his life had he been able to even dream of such a thing before everything went to hell and he and Slim had been forced to search refuge in Undertale. Which had been humiliating at the time, that he, the Maleficent Sans, Lieutenant of the Royal Guard, had to plead to their counterparts to let them stay because Slim had been an _idiot_ who openly spoke ill of the queen, and thus got the death penalty immediately.

But now… In all honesty, he was grateful. Even if he’d lost some of his prestige coming here, it had been a good decision. His gaze caught on one of the books, a bright red one. Curious, he pulled it out. It felt different than the others in his hand – leather, he realized. It was leather bound, and the cover was decorated in gold. _The Scarlet Pimpernel_ by Baroness Orczy. They’d watched the movie only two weeks ago. He considered it, regarding the price tag. Nineteen dollars. Back in Swapfell, he would’ve choked if he’d seen a book sold so cheaply. Especially a new one. As the lieutenant, he’d had access to the Royal Library, but those books weren’t his. He was only allowed to them on the mercy of the Queen – a privilege he’d lost many times because of his failure.

He swallowed as a shiver travelled up his spine, and shook his head. No. Not his failure. Her cruelty. The Undertale brothers had allowed them to stay on the condition that they went to therapy, and he was realizing now that what Her Majesty had done wasn’t justified, wasn’t right. It was abuse. But he didn’t want to think of that now. Just a moment of happiness, here surrounded by books, couldn’t be too much to ask. Doing his best to shove those thoughts back into the darkness of the back of his mind, he clung tighter onto the book. He’d buy it. Couldn’t pass up on such an opportunity after all, even if it was commonplace here. To him, it was precious.

“Have you found something?”

The bright voice made him twitch, but he nodded as Papyrus approached. The taller skeleton was holding a whole bunch of books in his arms. Some Young Adult, probably for Frisk, a book about mechanics, undoubtedly for Papyrus himself, and three different _Sherlock Holmes_ -books. Discomfort crept upon Razz at the thought of wasting so much money on something not necessary, but he shook it off. Not his money, not his universe. The Tales didn’t need to save every penny to survive. He held up the book he’d chosen, and Papyrus nodded approvingly.

“Fantastic! A true classic, according to Red.” Red, who, to Razz’s shock and great amusement, studied _literature_ after the monsters of Underfell reached the Surface. Oh, how he’d laughed when he’d found that out, and then been forced to dodge the bullets his counterpart had thrown on him. Good times.

“I can’t believe how cheap books are here,” he commented, stroking his finger over the gold engravings of the cover. “Something like this would’ve cost an arm and a leg back home.” Either that, or a full body, if you didn’t have gold. Many vendors would take that instead. But he didn’t mention that. It wasn’t like he ever would’ve agreed to that, so it wasn’t relevant.

The look on Papyrus’ face was both concerned and happy as he shrugged. “They’re cheaper on the Surface than they were Underground. Though I’m certain books in Swapfell were even more expensive than those we had.”

Razz nodded. Everything had been. Swapfell was an oligarchy, and resources were hoarded by those who could afford to live any other way than hand-to-mouth. He glanced meaningfully at the pile in Papyrus’ arms. “Undoubtedly.”

He only received a grin.

The bells hanging over the front door to the shop tinkled, signalling someone had entered. A teenager’s laughter was heard, followed by a _too-familiar_ voice. “Calm down, my child.”

The feminine voice sent sparks through Razz, and he stiffened, cold sweat dripping down his neck. Papyrus had turned away from him the moment they heard the laugh and didn’t see. “Frisk!” he greeted cheerfully. “Ms Toriel!”

“Papyrus, so nice to see you,” the warm voice said, and a face he’d _never_ forget stepped toward them, a thirteen-year-old following behind, smiling brightly. But Razz didn’t pay that any mind. The white goat monster towered above him, dressed in a royal purple dress, the Delta Rune decorating her chest as a diamond brooch. _Queen Toriel, looking down at him, fury shining in her eyes as he just stood there, staring at her. He couldn’t move, his limbs had frozen. Her throne towered behind her, its back reaching almost all the way to the ceiling, and dead flowers crunched beneath her feet as she took a step forward, raising a clawed hand_.

Pain flashed through his body as his knee hit the wooden floor, but he hardly registered it. “My Queen,” he whispered, but his voice shook, and he cursed himself. _Weak_ , a voice in his head whispered. It sounded exactly like _hers_.

Paws against the floor. He dared glancing up, mouth dry as a desert, and he saw her come closer. Instinctually, he braced himself for pain. A soft, fuzzy hand was placed on his shoulder. Razz couldn’t stop the tremors shaking his body, the hitching of his breath. _Claws digging into his shoulders. A fiery agony, and he’s curled up on the floor, sobbing as he tries to protect his broken ribs from further damage. “Disappointing,” a voice says. A voice he’d always admired. A voice he owed everything. “I expected more from you, Lieutenant.”_

 _A voice he’d left_.

Oh Angel, she was going to kill him, wouldn’t she? He’d betrayed her. Committed _treason_ when he fled with his brother. Razz squeezed his eyes shut, but it couldn’t close out the images of her throne room, decorated with dusty children’s toys. Like a twisted nursery.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, to stop trembling, he clenched his fists against the floor. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” he forced out, managing to keep his voice steady. The words felt gross in his mouth.

“Oh- Oh,” she said, and throwing him off. Why did she sound uncertain? “For what, my friend? And you needn’t call me _Your Majesty_ , I am no longer the queen. Toriel is just fine.”

 _What?_ He dared to steal a glance upwards. Three sets of eyes were staring at him. He met a pair of red eyes, and he bit down on his tongue as he quickly turned them down again. He tasted blood and phantom pains wracked his body already. He met her gaze without permission. But she gave him a command. “Toriel,” he whispered. The name tasted like ash without the _Queen_ in front of it. “My apologies, To-” He broke off, taking a shaky breath. The word was stuck in his throat.

“Razz?” A gentle voice said, and the hand finally left his shoulder. The heat and weight had begun to grow intolerable. Someone knelt in front of him. “Razz, deep breaths. Look at me.” His brother’s voice, but without the roughness the smoking had given it.

He looked up, meeting soft orange eyelights, and intent gently pressed against his soul, asking to be let in. Safety/Protectiveness/Control. Razz began to shake. He dug his fingertips into his palms, hissing at the pain as they drew blood. “Papyrus?”

“Yes, I’m here,” Papyrus replied, rubbing soothing circles over his neck with his thumb. “And so are you. Queen Toriel isn’t here. You’re safe. Your brother is safe. No one is going to hurt either of you. We’re safe.”

“I- I’m sorry, Your- Your Majesty, I- I can’t-” Couldn’t use that name, couldn’t disrespect her like that. Couldn’t endanger both himself and his brother. His teeth chattered, suddenly he felt cold, and he didn’t know why.

“Shhh.” Papyrus hushed him. “Can I hold you? Is that okay?”

After a moment of hesitation, Razz nodded. Warm arms embraced him, holding him gently so he didn’t feel trapped. He gasped, clutching onto Papyrus’ shirt, hiding his face in it. The scent of soap and faint remains of oil had his soul settling somewhat.

“I-” that familiar voice mumbled, making him tense again. “I think we should go. Come, my child. It was nice seeing you again, Papyrus.”

Papyrus only hummed a reply, and Razz could finally breathe again as she disappeared, as he couldn’t feel her familiar presence anymore. He remained in Papyrus’ arms for another while before shaking them off, standing up and exhaling slowly. Rolling his shoulders, he glanced nervously around. They were alone in this part of the shop, luckily. No one had seen his breakdown. Thank the Angel.

“Are you alright?” The question was gentle, unjudgmental.

Razz shook his head, clenching his fists to keep them from trembling. Slipped into the façade of the soldier he’d had many years to make perfect. “Can we go home?” His voice was quiet, soft. He needed to check with his brother, remind himself that they were safe. Embarrassment flushed his cheeks. Oh fuck. That had been Undertale Toriel. He’d broken down in front of a stranger, a stranger who didn’t even have an ounce of power after she abdicated. A _teacher_.

“Of course. Do you want to buy the book first?”

He only nodded, bowing down to pick it up from the floor after wiping off his blooded palms against his black trousers. He hadn’t even noticed he dropped it. Much to his relief, it had landed on its side, and was completely unharmed. Pressing it to his chest, Razz glanced toward the counter, made of dark wood, which was empty. A little silver bell stood on it, for calling on the clerk. “I’ll be right back.”

Papyrus nodded, his smile encouraging.

Razz still felt cold as ice when he made his way toward the counter, clutching _The Scarlet Pimpernel_ like a lifeline. But he kept his claws folded toward his palms rather than into the leather. He couldn’t damage something so precious, after all.

He was still trembling.


	27. Valentine's Day 2019

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles I've posted on Tumblr during the day, all inspired by WTNV-quotes because why not?

**Roses are red. Violets are sentient. Orchids have giant hearts. Lilies feel pain. This has been a comprehensive list of flowers.** – _Welcome to Night Vale_

BLACKBERRY & CASH, TWISTEDMONEY

Valentine’s Day was such an odd holiday. In theory, Blackberry supposed it was nice. A holiday to celebrate love. In practice, however, it seemed dumb and superficial. Even if his brother had been enthusiastic, happy to spend a day throwing gifts on his boyfriend. Without any reciprocation, Blackberry had assumed, which was why he was so shocked to find Cash in his garden. He blinked at the request, and Cash glared down at him, impatience and embarrassment evident in his eyes.

“Well? Will you help me?”

“You… You want my help to make my brother dinner?”

Scowling, Cash nodded. “I don’t know the first thing about cooking.”

Of course not. He had had staff cooking for him through his childhood, as well as now. Cash had a fucking _cook_ in his little manor. And wasn’t that the most ridiculous thing? He was only one person, why couldn’t he just learn to make his own food? “Why?”

The question came out a little harsher than he knew Twist would have approved of, but Twist wasn’t here right now, was he? And he wanted to make sure Cash wasn’t just planning on manipulating his brother, because he wouldn’t put it past him.

Ducking his head, Cash shoved his hands into his pockets. He scowled, faint purple tinting his cheeks as he muttered something.

“What did you say?”

“Because I fucking care for him, alright,” Cash spat, as though it was shameful to admit. And maybe, in his world, it was. “I care for him, and I want to do something nice for him for once.”

Humming, Blackberry turned his back to Cash, running his fingers through his flowers. “Do you love him?” His brother loved Cash, there was no doubt about it.

“Yes.” The answer was quiet, a whisper carried on the breeze.

Blackberry sighed. Goddammit. Despite his disapproval of Cash, he still just wanted Twist to be happy. And if Cash truly _did_ love him… He plucked a purple ambrosia flower, handing it to Cash, who frowned as he took it. “Fine. I’ll help you, if you give that flower to my brother.” As he spoke, he snapped the stem of another flower with his secateurs. A bright red begonia, which he also gave to Cash. “And this one is for you. Don’t you _dare_ hurt him.”

Looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else, Cash shook his head, glaring down at him. “I wouldn’t.”

He smiled sweetly, pulling off his gardening gloves, one finger at a time. “I’m sure. So what do you want to cook?”

 

**Imperfections in our reality are the seams and cracks into which our out-sized love can seep and pool. And sometimes we are annoyed, and disappointed, and that too is part of how love works. It is not a perfect system, but… oh well.** – _Welcome to Night Vale_

PUPPYMONEY

_Warning for drinking, drunkenness_

There were worse things in life than watching the person you love drink himself into destruction, Slim was sure, but right now, he couldn’t think of anything. And that didn’t say a little, considering he’d grown up in a Fellverse. He leaned against the doorframe at the entrance of Grillby’s, his soul heavy as he watched Cash grab another bottle of whiskey, downing half of it at once. Not even the fancy whisky he usually drank, because he was obviously far beyond caring about the taste. Now he was just trying to get drunk – which was a hassle for him, since his alcohol-tolerance was sky-high.

Sighing, Slim stepped inside the bar, receiving a nod from Grillby. The bartender had sent him a text when it became obvious Cash wasn’t about to stop drinking anytime soon. With slow movements, he walked up to Cash, putting a hand on his shoulder. There was no reaction. A bad sign. Any Fellmonster with an ounce of survival instinct would’ve at least checked who it was by now.

But Cash did nothing.

“Hey,” he said softly. Cash only grunted, finally glancing at him from the corner of his eye before downing a good part of the remains in the bottle. “Let me take you home.”

“No.” Cash, surprisingly, didn’t even have a slight slurring to his voice. His eyes were glazed, though, revealing that he wasn’t exactly sober. “Not home. Too empty.”

Oh. Slim nodded. “Alright. Come home to me.”

That earned him another grunt, which he chose to interpret as consent. He pried the bottle out of his hand before pulling Cash’s arm over his shoulder. With a quiet groan, he heaved the other upright, steering him out into the cold outside. The snow of Undertale Snowdin creaked beneath his shoes. Maybe he should be grateful that Cash had chosen a safe universe to try to drink himself to death, at least, but he really didn’t feel like it right now. Cash stumbled forward, staying on his feet only thanks to Slim’s refusal to let him fall.

The walk was silent, and neither of them spoke a word as they stumbled into the Undertale brothers’ basement and Slim activated the machine, back to Swapfell. His arms ached when they stepped through, and it was with a sigh of relief he let Cash fall down on the living room couch. “Don’t throw up, or Razz will be _furious_ ,” he warned.

Cash only rolled his eyes. But when Slim stepped away, thinking he’d go to the kitchen and get this asshole some water, he whined, ducking his head and looking away. With a soft sigh, Slim sat down, hesitantly reaching out to put his hand on the other’s arm. Miraculously, he didn’t protest. Maybe he was more drunk than he seemed.

“What’s wrong?”

Shaking his head, Cash leaned more into his touch, and Slim felt his soul melt. Gathering the other up in his arms, he pulled him to his chest. Cash sighed contently, settling in his lap. Yeah. He was absolutely drop-dead drunk. But Slim smiled faintly. Maybe it wasn’t quite as bad at it had seemed first.

“I love you,” he murmured into his skull, certain that Cash wouldn’t remember a thing in the morning, and Cash made a happy noise. “Please take better care of yourself.”

The only reply he got was a faint snoring against his dark orange hoodie, and he sighed, pulling Cash closer.

 

**We are all poetry, Night Vale. Every breath or branch or sigh before another hopeless night of weary slumber is itself a verse in a great poem.** – _Welcome to Night Vale_

SPICYHONEY

Stretch rarely slept well. Insomnia was a bitch, and all that. The sleep he couldn’t get at night was instead made up for by countless shorter naps during the day. Not because he truly needed that much sleep – he was a Papyrus after all – but because sleep, however restless, was an escape from the constant anxiety.

Yeah. Being awake was in itself a curse sometimes. Funny thing that his brother was the one who needed sleep and easily found it, whilst complaining about needing it. Things would’ve been better for both of them if it had been the other way around, like it conveniently was for Sans and Papyrus. But that hadn’t been ‘swapped’ in their universe – even if he still wasn’t convinced _they_ were the swapped ones, it could just as well be Undertale and Underfell that were all backwards.

Sighing softly, he ran his fingers over his partner’s arm. In difference to him, despite being a _Papyrus_ , Edge always fell asleep immediately. Anywhere, anytime he wanted. Rarely deeply though. Not like now, when he was breathing slowly, relaxed, a faint smile on his face. So Stretch couldn’t envy him, since he knew why Edge would sleep so easily. Back home in Underfell, he had to be able to do that, get every minute of sleep he could, because who knew how long he’d have to go without. He’d had to get the sleep he could to function, or die. It was nothing but survival, and Stretch could never envy him that.

But he didn’t need to.

With a murmur, Edge turned around in their bed. His fingers grasped Stretch’s wrist gently, tugging. With a smile, he obeyed, and allowed his datemate – and wasn’t that such a cute word – to pull him in against his chest and hold him there. Their ribs pressed against each other through the thin fabric of Edge’s thin pyjama tank top. It was black with an image of a cartoon honey bear hugging a sourly grizzly – a gift from Sans. And Stretch absolutely loved it, which was why Edge wore it to bed sometimes. Warmth enclosed him as Edge pulled him closer, love and trust radiating from his soul.

Smiling, Stretch closed his eyes and buried his face in Edge’s shirt, breathing in the scent of leather and cologne – Edge’s scent. He closed his eyes, feeling the rhythm of his soul sync up with the other’s, and he placed a hand against his ribs, exhaling slowly and nestling into Edge.

Perhaps he couldn’t sleep. But for once, it didn’t bother him.

 

**A million dollars isn’t cool. You know what’s cool? Space. Well, more cold really. And lonely. And dark. And infinite… hello?** – _Welcome to Night Vale_

ROTTENBERRY

Razz knew what it meant to be alone. So alone, so lonely, it felt like you were slowly going insane from the emptiness around you. From the vastness of space. You could scream and cry and yell, and no one would ever hear you. That had been his life for two long years, dumped at an isolated planet as a punishment for his subordination.

That is, until _The Stargazer_ had arrived, forced to land on the nearest planet for repairs. Even though they were pirates, by that point he, a former general in the Empire’s army, had been so desperate for companionship he’d spent every second he could with them. And when their spaceship was repaired, they’d offered for him to come with them. Obviously, he had agreed, unable to go back to the loneliness and isolation.

He smiled up at the space outside, lounging in the couch in his bedroom, in front of a huge window. Outside of the spaceship, a black eternity stretched out, dotted with stars brighter than anything you’d see from a planet’s surface. Not so long ago, the view had been enough to send him spiralling into a panic attack, feeling he was back in his lonely prison. Not anymore though.

It knocked on the door. At his answering call, it slid open, and Blue stepped in. The quartermaster of _The Stargazer_ wore a light blue spacesuit and smiled as he sank down on the couch, leaning into Razz’s side.

Returning his smile, Razz kissed the top of his head. All thanks to Blue, really, that he wasn’t terrified of space anymore. Without him, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever again would’ve been able to see the stars he’d once loved so dearly.

“How are you, love?” Blue asked, shifting until he’s the one with his arms around Razz. Unlike with every other partner he’d had before, Razz didn’t mind. There was no need to prove he was the one in charge: there was nothing to prove at all. He could allow himself the safety of Blue’s embrace. The warmth, the closeness, the knowledge that he wasn’t alone anymore. That he never would be alone again.

Sighing happily, leaning into Blue’s chest, he turned his gaze back to space. Blue was warm and his arms gentle as he put them around him, pressing him against his chest. He lifted a hand, intertwining his fingers with Blue’s, and Blue squeezed gently. “I’m perfect.”

“I love you,” Blue murmured into his skull, voice warm.

Razz smiled. “I love you too.”

 

**I hope that we all find something – or someone – that can keep the light on a little longer against the endless pressing dark** – _Welcome to Night Vale_

TWISTEDMONEY

_Warning for past child abuse, past marital rape_

There were scars on Cash’s ribs. And on his pelvis. And his arms. All places he could – was supposed to – hide. Some of them were from back when he was a young child, before his parents died, leaving him in his older brother’s guardianship. Plum was a cruel man, but he had never resorted to using violence as a punishment, deeming it below him. So Cash was still grateful he was raised by him, and not the late Lord and Lady Abrisey.

Some of them came from later, after his marriage. His late husband had treated him like porcelain, pretty and easy to break, everywhere except in the bedroom. In a room Cash couldn’t tell him no.

He hated them. All of them. Marks a noble shouldn’t wear, evidence not only of how he’d been a disappointment already as a child, but even more, of his helplessness.

The arms around his ribcage tightened, the warmth of the ribs pressed against his back growing hotter. Cash relaxed into the embrace, running a finger over the scarred arms around him. He smiled.

And then there were the scars he didn’t mind. Scars given to him in the first life he’d chosen for himself, even if it had been out of desperation at first. It wasn’t anymore. He could leave at any time if he should so choose, anytime they went into port, but why would he? Everything he’d grown to love existed on this ship. Everyone.

Twist murmured behind him, shifting and pulling him closer. He felt the other’s breath on his neck, causing a shiver to run through his body.

“Mornin’, Patches,” Twist whispered into his ear, and Cash could _feel_ his smile. When he was in a good mood, Twist was like sunshine. Warm and bright, and made Cash feel more alive – though he’d never tell the other that. Nonetheless, he had his suspicions Twist already knew.

“Mornin’, asshole,” he replied, earning an amused huff. Both at the insult and at his attempt at an accent. To hell with sounding like a noble, he’d decided one day; he’d left that life behind. But apparently, he didn’t manage to sound like an authentic urchin just yet. Scowling, he turned around in Twist’s arm, shoving him away. “Don’t laugh at me.”

Twist only grinned, taking his hand to press a kiss to his fingers. Cash’s cheeks flushed purple at the tender action. “Aw, don’t be mad, precious.” Twist kissed his carpal bones as well. “Yer accent’s adorable.”

“It’s not supposed to- ta be adorable, Twisted,” he protested, glaring.

Chuckling, Twist slid out of bed. His eyes glittered as he stretched, putting his bare bones fully at display. Scars littered his bones, many more and far more sinister than Cash’s own. From the few stories he’d been told, he knew they’d been inflicted in far more gruesome ways as well. Yet Twist managed to be perfectly at peace with them, unashamed of his body. Sunshine flowed in through the window, washing over him. And he was still drop-dead gorgeous, which Cash couldn’t help but mutter.

He didn’t mean for the other to hear, but from the way his grin widened, he did. Leaning down, Twist kissed his forehead. “Thanks, darlin’.”

His smile turned mischievous as he raked his eyes over Cash’s body. The appreciation was enough for him to feel, for once, that he didn’t need to cover up, and he could lean back and enjoy the tingle of pleasure sparking through him from being _appreciated_.

“Maybe ya should get dressed tho’,” Twist added. “It’s yer first day a’ work after all, _Cap’n_.”

The way he said Cash’s newly won title sent shivers down his spine. Twist was watching him as though he’d like to devour him right then and there. And he noticed Cash’s reaction, his grin turning wolfish, smugness mixing with lecherousness.

Cash growled, throwing a pillow at him. He caught it mid-air, letting out a surprised laugh.

“Get back to yer own cabin, asshole. Yer distractin’ me.”

Still laughing, Twist lazily saluted him. “Aye aye, Cap’n.” His eyes gleamed. “Yer in charge.”

Feeling heat blossom in _multiple_ places at those words, Cash threw another pillow at him, ducking his face to hide his blush. He could still hear Twist’s (beautiful) laughter down the hallway as he finally left, closing the door behind him.

 

**You look like a million bucks.** – _Welcome to Night Vale_

BLACKCHERRY

_Warning: Suggestive_

Red hated wearing suits. They brought up old memories he couldn’t quite remember, things that made his head buzz and the world feel less real for a moment. Plus, they were uncomfortable as hell and he felt ridiculous wearing one. But he had promised his husband to come to his lawyer firm’s fancy monkey suit party, so here he was, fighting the urge to pull at the tie around his neck. It was too tight.

He reached out with his free hand, the one that wasn’t holding a champagne flute, intertwining his fingers with Razz’s. Razz glanced at him, giving him a short but warm smile before returning to his conversation with his colleague. At least Razz looked stunning in his deep red, slim cocktail dress and black stiletto heels. Red squeezed his fingers as he watched him. It pleased him far more than he cared to admit to see Razz in _his_ colour. His possessive streak loved it. And he didn’t doubt for a moment that that was exactly why Razz had chosen to wear it. Razz did like to press his buttons. And damn he was good at it.

“And you, Mr Gaster?” The voice broke him out of his thoughts, making him twitch and drop the pleasant smile he wore, just for Razz’s sake.

“Huh?”

“What do you do for a living?” the lawyer lady in her green dress repeated, slightly put off.

“Oh, ‘m a Physics-teacher at Evermoor High.” He smiled. It was the best job he’d ever had, undoubtedly. No danger, no humiliation, just teaching kids about the wonders of science and bringing the poorer kids breakfast so they could eat. Which was possible much to Razz’s salary, he wasn’t going to lie. Being a teacher in the bad part of town didn’t exactly pay well.

The lawyer sniffed. “Ah.”

And that tone was easy to recognize. Dismissal. She looked down on him for having a ‘lower’ job in a ‘bad’ school.

“Yeah,” he said, and in the corner of his eye he saw Razz smirk. “An’ tha’s Doctor Gaster for ya. Tha’ PhD in Quantum Physics really made it easy ta get a teachin’ job. Not ta talk about my former employment as a judge a’ th’ royal court.”

Her mouth dropped open, and Razz’s smirk grew. Holding in his own smug grin was difficult, but somehow, he did it.

“It was a pleasure to see you,” Razz said smoothly. “Good luck with your case.”

Pulling Red away from her, he glared at him, but his amusement shone through his annoyed expression. “Thought I told you to play nice, asshole.”

Red shrugged. “She was bein’ a jerk.”

“She was.” Razz’s voice was a murmur now, and suddenly Red realized they weren’t in the main room anymore. Wherever Razz had brought him was dark. Hands fiddled with his collar, with his suit jacket, correcting the placement of his tie. Razz grinned up at him, watching him with so much appreciation it brought a blush to his face. “You’re looking handsome,” he murmured. “You should wear suits more often.”

Red was about to protest, point out he looked like an edgy penguin, but he didn’t get the chance, gasping as he was jerked down, and their teeth clacked as he was kissed hard. Reacting on instinct, he put his arms around Razz’s waist but didn’t pull him closer. Didn’t try to take control. Razz slipped his tongue into his mouth, and he sighed happily.

Far too soon, Razz pulled away, releasing his collar and leaving him panting. He rolled his shoulders as he straightened. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” His eyes were half-lidded as he gazed up on him, the purple in his eyelights bright.

“Happy Valentine’s, sweetheart,” he replied, taking Razz’s hand to press a kiss to his knuckles. His husband took the opportunity to run his thumb over his cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you too, asshole.” Razz smirked. “Once we leave this party, how about we spend the night having a horror movie marathon.” At Red’s expression, he nodded, tip-toeing to murmur into his ear, “And yes. I might end up tying you down.” He ran a hand over Red’s chest, stepping back. Red’s cheek burned crimson in the darkness, casting a red light over Razz’s face. “Can’t resist you in such a handsome suit, after all.”

Somehow, his cheeks went even redder, his entire body flushing hot as he raked his eyes over Razz, who was grinning lecherously. The way he stood, with hands on his hip, only made his _crimson_ dress accentuate every shape on his beautiful body.

“Yeah,” he choked out. “Sounds great.”

The smile he was rewarded with was triumphant as Razz pulled him down for another kiss. But before their teeth touched, he stopped, murmuring, “But for now, we better go back and socialize.”

Red couldn’t hold in his groan.

 

**Listeners, look past the things you think you see. Move your head just a touch to the left – a glance in a world of perspectives. And then… you might see it: an entire universe in the corner of your eye** – _Welcome to Night Vale_

MAPLEBLOSSOM

The world was terrifying. That much was a fact when you were Fellverse. The world was terrifying and merciless and uncaring.

Slim had always known it. Had always _believed it_. You can know things without believing them and believe things without knowing. But that the world was a horrible place was a _fact_ , completely undeniable. You only had yourself, and, if you were lucky, a few trusted ones.

And yet…

He smiled as he watched Papyrus say goodbye to the children, both monster and human, who he had spent the day with at their school, coming from the Embassy to talk with them. He was laughing, beaming, as the children clung to his legs, begging him not to leave. He was happy.

And so was Slim, incredible as it may seem, as he watched. The red convertible he leaned against was warm against his bones, heated up by the sunshine. Spring had arrived.

Eventually, Papyrus managed to escape the children. He waved goodbye as he made his way toward Slim, tip-toeing as he reached him to press a kiss against his teeth. Somehow, he seemed even happier as he intertwined his fingers with Slim’s, joy shining in his eyes.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said, and Slim’s smile brightened as well. Despite everything, he couldn’t not be happy when Papyrus looked at him like that.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmured. The sun warmed their bones, and his body tingled as Papyrus pressed up against him, stealing another kiss. “Had a good day?”

“I did! The children were very eager to learn!”

“Sure they didn’t just like you? Seems like you were pretty popular.” He nodded toward the children still on the schoolyard, staring at them as they hung on the fence.  

Papyrus looked thoughtful. “Well! Of course I am! I am the Great Papyrus. Now, get off my beautiful car and take a seat. I have a perfect Valentine’s date planned!”

Slim couldn’t not laugh as he obeyed, sliding into the passenger’s seat. Papyrus intertwined their fingers again, lifting them so he could kiss Slim’s scarred fingers, and orange tinted Slim’s chees. Papyrus only chuckled.

“Of course,” Slim replied. “Wouldn’t expect anything less from someone as amazing as you.”

Beaming, Papyrus started the car, and Slim watched him as he steered it out on the road, smile remaining on his face, his soul just as warm as the sunlight.

The world was terrifying and horrible, or at least that was what he’d always believed, had always been taught.

Now, however, as he saw Papyrus wave goodbye a last time to the children, happiness shining in his eyes, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

 

**Everything is exciting! Particularly existence. Existence is the most thrilling fact of all.** – _Welcome to Night Vale_

CLASSICBERRY

Laughter came from Blue before he could stop himself as he looked at his boyfriend. Sans stared at the rollercoasters in badly veiled horror, gaping and his eyes wide. The Valentine’s Fair was in town and of course, Blue had wanted to go, and to bring his boyfriend. And Sans had, naturally, agreed. Apparently he hadn’t been expecting a rollercoaster though. Screams filled the air as one of the carriages rushed down the deepest slope, mixing with the scent of cotton candy.

“You don’t have to come,” Blue said, taking Sans’ hand. He giggled at his expression. “I can go myself.”

“N-no.” Sans’ voice shook, and he squeezed Blue’s hand tight. “I want to go with you.”

Blue’s smile brightened even more. Nodding, he pulled Sans with him to the line. In the meantime, Sans managed to put on his usual mildly amused expression, but the way he squeezed Blue’s hand told another story.

He pecked his cheek. “It’ll be fine, love! Rollercoasters are perfectly safe.”

“You say that,” Sans muttered, but he followed, nonetheless.

Luckily, the line wasn’t terribly long, and soon they could climb into the front carriage. Blue’s body tingled with excitement as he bounced in his seat, grinning widely. Sans’ expression softened, but then the carriage jerked forward. Whimpering, he clung onto the safety rail as they gained speed.

Blue could only laugh, leaning into his side as they slowly climbed the first slope. His soul raced as he looked down. Everything was so _small_ from up here. Like dolls. When he offered his hand, Sans clung onto it like his life depended on it.

“Love you,” Blue chirped as they reached the top. Sans pulled in a sharp breath as he looked down, eyelights disappearing.

The carriage stopped for a second.

Then they went down.


	28. Firefly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honeymaple? HoneyBBQ? Just a short drabble based on a thing Dandelion and I were talking about
> 
> Hurt/comfort

Stretch woke up to whimpering. When he opened his eyes, blinking and stretching his back like a cat, he found it was still dark outside, and therefore also inside their tent. A single firefly had somehow found its way inside and was bouncing against the brown walls to try to escape. He would’ve smiled at the sight, hadn’t another whimper reached him. Turning around in his bedding, he found Slim curled up into a ball, quiet whines spilling from his mouth. His face was scrunched up in fear.

As he watched, Stretch’s soul pulsed painfully hard at the distress on his lover’s face. Without thinking too much of it, he reached out, sneaking his arms around Slim’s ribcage to pull him close, pressing him against his own chest as he slowly coached them both into a sitting position. He hushed him, kissing the top of his head. “Wake up, Slim, it’s only a nightmare,” he whispered, stroking a hand over his cheek.

The soft words seemed to do their job, and with a gasp, Slim threw his eyes open. They flickered wildly for a few moments before finally settling on Stretch’s face, and he went lax in his arms. A gentle shudder went through him as Stretch pressed another kiss to his forehead. “Are you alright, precious?”

For a few moments, Slim didn’t seem to know what to do or say, but then he slowly nodded. “I think so.” His voice was quiet.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Of course he already knew what Slim’s nightmares usually were about. The execution Stretch’s ragtag team of bandits had accidentally saved him from. The judgement falling, sentencing him to death for attempted regicide – a crime he hadn’t actually committed. His brother’s the general’s dead eyes, which had completely given up on him, when he allowed them to throw Slim into the dungeon.

Slim shook his head and Stretch held him tighter. He was warm in his arms. “That’s alright, love. Let’s just sit here for a while, yes?”

Slowly, Slim nodded. He smiled faintly, shakily. “Yes please.”

He nodded, and they settled into silence, watching the firefly and just breathing as Slim leaned into his chest, both their souls settling.

“Stretch?” Slim’s quiet voice came eventually.

“Yeah precious?”

He hesitated. Then, “I love you.”

A soft smile lit up Stretch’s face. Sticking his head in-between Slim’s skull and shoulder, into his neck, he just breathed in his lover’s scent for a moment. His soul made a happy flip, as it always did on the rare occasions the other spoke those words. “I love you too, Slim.”


	29. Aromantic Awareness Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of my AAW-fics for this week
> 
> Alicedragons said: Man... aro stuff is hard. Especially because it’s a different experience for everyone. As someone who’s still questioning, I was hoping perhaps you could write something where a character is still unsure whether or not they’re aro? (i.e. “I really like this person but I can’t tell if I’m attracted to them romantically/sexually/platonically and now I’m questioning myself”). Uh... Swap Papyrus, maybe? Only if you’re comfortable, of course! I completely understand if not. Thank you! ^_^

_How would it be to date Edge?_ Stretch wondered as he watched his counterpart deal out the cards in the game of poker he was playing with Razz. It was a good while since he had learnt _not_ to play poker with a Fellmonster. Every single one cheated. So much. It was part of the game for them. Never again, that was for sure. He curled up on the couch, leaning his arms and head on the backrest, tilting his head.

They’d kiss, he imagined. Go on dates – dinners, maybe the movies. Cuddle up on the couch. Edge was an attractive monster, there was no arguing that. And none of those ideas were unappealing.

Only, they were so _familiar_. He had thought the exact same thoughts about Muffet before he realized he wasn’t into women, though the thought of kissing her never seemed like it’d be nice. He’d thought them about Slim, and Dogamy back before he married Dogaressa, and even Grillby, who he didn’t particularly like. Mostly tolerated, since he was a good friend of Blue’s. Hell, he’d wondered the same about people he’d known for a couple hours and found agreeable enough. Was he just a huge romantic?

But as familiar as the thoughts were, he had never… well, never _desired_ it. Oh, he wanted it well enough, just for the principle: all those things about romance sounded so nice. Being someone’s favourite person, knowing they’d always be there, making it official with a wedding. Who didn’t want to throw a huge party like a wedding anyway? But there had never been _someone_ he wanted it with. He just. Wanted it.

His gaze wandered over to the other skeleton. Razz’s poker face was immaculate as he placed his bet. The purple of his magic was bright in the dim room, and also he was a handsome monster, just different enough from Blue for Stretch to being able to regard him as attractive. On the surface, Razz was a terrifying monster, even more than Edge. Because where Edge was, when it came down to it, someone who would always choose mercy over violence, Razz wasn’t. Razz cared about a chosen few and everyone else was little but pawns or threats to him.

Nonetheless, Stretch had seen his softer side. He shifted, pulling the fleece blanket over his shoulders. He’d seen Razz patch up his Chara while they were screaming in pain, gently reproaching them for doing something dangerous. Seen him cuddled up in the couch with his brother, fast asleep, content and safe.

The idea of being the one to bring out that softness… yeah, he liked that. But as pleasing as the thought was, he didn’t feel anything _more_. Once when he was a teenager watching his classmates date and hearing them babble on about love, he’d asked his older brother what it felt like to be in love. _Terrifying_ , Blue had answered him back then, _but in a good way. You can’t stop thinking about them. Your stomach tickles at the mere thought of them. You’re almost euphoric_.

That sounded nice, Stretch admitted. The idea of romantic love sounded nice, and sometimes it made him sad that he’d never experienced it – or maybe he had, and he just hadn’t noticed? There were certainly people he loved to spend time with and missed as soon as they disappeared. Blue had always been so exuberant; maybe his way of feeling love was as well.

He just. Didn’t know. Because how were you supposed to know if there was an _absence_ of something you didn’t know _what_ it was? Red had let him know about the word _aromantic_. And maybe, that was what it was. But how was he supposed to _know_ , when what he was looking for was a _lack_ of something? He’d realized he was gay because he felt attraction to men, he wanted intimacy with men. That had been much easier than to recognize if he _didn’t_ feel something, especially something as abstract as romantic love.

It had been easier for Red, because Red just. Didn’t give a damn about anything romance. As he said, “I don’t feel it and I don’t want it. That mushy shit ain’t fer me.”

But Stretch _wanted_ that ‘mushy shit’. Even if he _was_ aromantic, he still wanted to be someone’s favourite person, he still wanted someone – or someones – to spend his life with. It didn’t have to be romantic, he’d come to realize the past few weeks, ever since Red gave him that word, but it was… difficult, to imagine it as anything else when he had never seen anyone do something like that without romance being involved. He threw a reproachful look on the television.

It was supposed to be an adventure movie, all about ancient temples and escaping the evil grave robbers. Yet here the main characters _fucking_ were, kissing in a goddamn _life or death-situation_. It wasn’t strange that these reflections had just spiralled out of nowhere: they’d known each other for like a week and were already ready to die for each other. In what reality did that happen?

Sighing, Stretch sank back into the couch, playing with the cigarette package in his pocket. Maybe it did happen. What the hell did he know? Absolutely nothing.

Stars, why was this so _confusing?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a drabble collection specifically for AAW! [You can find it here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17838005/chapters/42090608)


	30. Loneliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Underswap "babybones". Well, they're teens.
> 
> This is like 500 words

Fiddling with his phone, Papyrus watched his classmates lounge by the town square fountain. He himself sat cross-legged on one of the benches a distance away, and he doubted they knew he was there. To see them had been an unpleasant surprise. Not because they weren’t nice, because they were. But it put him in the uncomfortable position of hearing their laughter and their conversation from a distance, and knowing he wasn’t there to have it with them.

His stomach squirmed with longing, and technically, he knew he could just walk up to them and join in. No one would say a word about it. But he also knew that it’d be weird. That they weren’t his friends, even if they were friendly. The edges of his phone dug into his fingers as he squeezed it, forcing himself to avert his eyes.

When he came out here, he’d just hoped to catch some fresh air, to be surrounded by people and draw energy from that rather than stay in his room all day. Being outside was nice, as long as there was a weather you could just sit around in without freezing. What he hadn’t expected was that he would run upon many of his classmates, the people he saw every day in school as they had fun together.

The people he’d watch and just realize even more, that _he_ didn’t have someone like that. Oh, he had a friend or two. And they were nice. It was fun to hang out with them. But there was none of that closeness those people seemed to have, the easy touching, the _knowing_. The not worrying you were being annoying and they’d rather you shut the fuck up but were too kind to say it.

An image of Sans with his friends flashed before his eyes, and white-hot jealousy flashed through him for a second before he sagged against the wooden backrest, shaking his head. It wasn’t fair against Sans to be angry that he got to have all that Papyrus wanted. He’d seen Blue hang out with his friends – he’d hung out with them too, a couple times. Seen the comradery, the easy trust, the closeness they had. And more times than he’d bothered to count, he’d had Sans wave him and their dad goodbye before going out to see his friends.

While Papyrus just stayed behind at home. All alone, except for their dad. And dad was nice, he loved him a lot, but it wasn’t the _same_ , obviously, as having _real friends_. Friends you knew wanted you around. Friends you knew would prefer you to somebody else.

With a quiet sigh, he stood up, sliding in behind the closest building so his classmates wouldn’t notice him. That’d be awkward.

Better just go home. At least there he could _pretend_ he wasn’t lonely.


	31. Phone Charger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiny Rottenberry drabble

When Blue came home from work, he didn’t expect to find his boyfriend sitting on the couch, fiddling with the charger. Trying to tie a knot, apparently. He stopped in the door to the living room, raising an eyebrow. “Razz, what are you doing?”

Razz didn’t even glance up at him as he straightened it out. “I’m trying to figure out if this is long enough to tie a noose. Thoughts?”

Blinking, Blue stared at him. “The fuck?”

“Is this phone charger long enough to tie a noose, Blue? Can I try it out on you?” He sounded a bit impatient, annoyed at having to repeat himself. A lot of things irritated Razz, and repeating himself was one of them.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Sighing exaggeratedly, Razz glared at him. “I’m not planning on killing someone with a phone charger noose, Blue. It’s for my current client’s case? You know, the _murder suspect_ , whose supposed victim was hung? With a phone charger?” He smirks. “Hanging someone is a fucking pathetic way to murder. If I kill someone, it’s going to be far more elegant.”

“I-” Blue cuts himself off, shaking his head with an exasperated smile. “Fine.” Stepping over, he sinks into the couch in front of Razz. Not like it’s the first time he’s agreed to something like this. You got used to the weirdest stuff living with someone like Razz. Former Guard officer, lawyer, general sociopath when it came to people outside of his little circle of loved ones. “Do what you gotta do. But if you strangle me to death I’m going to haunt you and pour glitter on every single one of your professional suits.”

He could feel Razz’s grin as the other chuckled darkly, putting the charger around his neck. “I’ll do my best, love,” he purred. “But hey, maybe you’d enjoy it.”

Sky blue tinted Blue’s cheeks, and he let out a quiet growl. That only made Razz’s delighted chuckles louder.


	32. International Women's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I told Kyuko I wanted to write something for International Women’s Day and she said “Lesbians” so here’s Edwardian Lesbian Edgeberry Coffee Shop AU (and how complicated that AU title is bring me joy)

The rain smattered against the windows of the small café as they hurried inside, letting out relieved sighs. Fell straightened, brushing waterdrops off her black jacket as she glanced at her companion. Razz grinned at her, drying off the _Votes for Women_ -pin on her chest. Under her jacket, Fell wore a garnet-red dress: both she and her brother wore red a lot, it made a marvellous contrast to their brown skin and raven black hair. Hair that was pinned into an elegant bun beneath her huge black hat decorated with red flowers.

Together, they stepped inside the warm café, which smelled deliciously of sugar and fresh bread, before taking one of the circular tables closest to the counter, with a white tablecloth over it. Razz wore a light pink dress and a had a white hat with pink roses on her blonde head. Her eyes glimmered as she placed a hand on the table, drumming her fingers against the surface.

“Quite a successful protest, don’t you think?” she asked, sounding pleased.

Nodding, Fell wiped her hands off at one of the cloth napkins at the table. “At least no one got arrested this time. I do believe my dearest brother is getting tired of bailing us out. We’ve cost him quite the fortune.”

Razz snorted, her hand trailing down to her stomach. “That’s what he gets for marrying me. He knew what he was getting into even before he proposed, so he’s got no one to blame but himself.” Her smile softened. “But I do suppose I’ll have to calm down eventually. For a while.”

Once the pregnancy started to show, started to restrict her. Fell smiled, even as she grimaced on the inside. She pitied Red who would have to deal with Razz once the pregnancy turned into a hindrance, and the mood-swings set in. _But again_ , she thought fondly, _he’d probably threaten to disown me if I voiced that. He loves her and the child far too much to ever see it as a burden_. And she could certainly not afford to get disowned: since she had no plans on marrying, she’d likely be financially dependent on her brother for many years yet. It was difficult, being a happily unwed upper-class woman. The opportunities to find work were few.

“Good evening,” a polite, light voice came from behind. “Can I take your order?”

A woman in a blue blouse, black skirt, and a white apron stepped up to them, smiling. Fell froze in her tracks as her gaze flickered up to meet the waitress’ bright blue eyes. The light from the lamps danced in them, causing them to shimmer like ice. A _striking_ contrast to her mocha skin. And her hair, black as midnight, was in a neat bun just above her neck, but a few coils of curly hair had escaped, framing her face. Fell gaped. Then Razz snickered, reminding her of where she was, and her mouth snapped close and she straightened her back.

Her eyes flickered down to the menu on the table for a second before going back to the woman’s face: full lips, a wide nose, thick black eyelashes. _Holy hell she was beautiful_. “Black currant tea, please,” she managed to choke out, pursing her lips as Razz giggled loudly.

The waitress smiled, nodding as she scratched that down in a black leather notebook. “Thank you, ma’am.” She turned to Razz.

Smiling slyly, Razz pointed at an item on the menu. “A cup of peppermint tea, please. What’s your name, miss?”

She blinked, surprised at the question, before smiling, brighter than before. Fell’s heart made a somersault. “Blue, ma’am. Blue Debois.”

“Well, Miss Debois-” Razz pointedly ignored the panicked gaze Fell sent her. She knew exactly what Razz was planning and it was a _dumb idea fucking hell_ “-I quite feel I need to sit in silence for a while – I’m pregnant, you see – so maybe you could hold my companion company for a while? Since the café is empty other than us. I’d feel terribly guilty if she had to be alone.”

Tilting her head, Miss Debois regarded Fell for a moment, and she could feel a drop of sweat slide down her neck as she smiled back, folding her gloved hands in her lap. Oh God have mercy on her. They were never a family gifted at emotions, she, her brother and their parents, and in all honesty it was a miracle Red had managed to marry someone like Razz. And _Red_ was the family’s social butterfly. She wanted desperately to glare at Razz, but she also didn’t want Miss Debois to get the wrong impression.

“I’d love to.”

Razz smiled politely at her as she stood up, smoothing out her skirt. “I’m very grateful. But we’d like our tea first.”

“Of course, ma’am.” Curtsying quickly, she left the room for the kitchen.

Correcting the position of her hat, Razz ignored the furious glares Fell sent her. “What are you _doing?_ I don’t know how to talk to girls. And she’s _working_.”

“Figure it out.” Razz turned her back to her, throwing a smug look over her shoulder. “That’s what you told me when I was first starting to see your brother. And we’ve got all day, dear sister. We can stay here until her shift ends.” Then she was gone, gliding over to the other side of the café where she settled into an aubergine couch in the darkest corner. Fell was going to _kill_ her when they left. Or in a couple months, she supposed it’d be cruel to kill her brother’s unborn child as well as his wife. But _kill her_ she would.

Soon, Miss Debois returned to the café, putting down a teacup in front of Razz before placing a white porcelain cup with a red rose painted on it in front of Fell. The purple tea inside steamed.

“Thank you.” Fell delicately picked up the cup, putting it to her lips and sipping. It burned on her tongue, which helped ground her and her fluttering stomach. She glanced toward Razz. “I apologize if you’re busy, miss. You don’t have to sit here.”

Letting out a giggle, Miss Debois shook her head. “Oh, don’t worry, ma’am. I’m quite pleased.” Her eyes glittered, though a stroke of anxiety flashed over her face before she added, “It’s not every day such a beautiful lady comes in here, after all.”

Blood rushed to her cheeks. Ducking her head, Fell suddenly wished that wearing her hair loose would’ve been socially acceptable, so it could’ve fallen to hide her face. In her embarrassment, she saw her late father’s disapproving face flash before her inner eye. _We’re Blanchets. Act like it_. Taking a deep breath, she smiled, holding out her hand over the table for Miss Debois to shake.

“How rude of me,” she said. “I’m Mademoiselle Fell Blanchet. The lady who just left us is my sister-in-law, Madame Razz Blanchet. And-” She hesitated. “You’re very lovely yourself.”

Miss Debois straightened, delight shining in her eyes as she blushed faintly. “You’re French?”

“ _Oui_. We moved here from Paris when my twin brother and I were thirteen. And you, miss? I noticed you have a French surname.”

She nodded, and when she spoke, it was in French. “From Semur-en-Auxois in Burgundy, ma’am. My father remarried and we moved here when I was a child, but I’ve always wanted to go back and visit. Oh,” she said, pausing. Her smile shone like the sun in Fell’s eyes. “Call me Blue, ma’am.”

Very much pretending like she didn’t want to scream, Fell nodded, returning her smile. “I’m flattered. Then you may call me Fell.”

The other’s eyebrows raised so high they looked like they might fall off her face, which made Fell laugh. Her surprise was evident, which was understandable. After all, she was a waitress, and Fell was quite rich – on her brother’s, admittedly great, graces. Stars, she did need to find herself an appropriate job, but it was difficult, and doubly so with her having been arrested multiple times for being in the suffragette riots.

Blue’s eyes flickered down to the button on her jacket. “You’re a suffragette?”

“I am.” She pursed her lips, for a moment anxious as she waited for Blue’s response. Not everyone supported their cause, even if they were women.

She looked pleased. “Maybe… Maybe you’d like to accompany me to a protest someday, ma’- Fell?”

Eyes widening, Fell nodded dumbly. She shook herself to clear her head before nodding again, her cheeks straining from the force of her smile. “I’d love that.”

* * *

Stirring her teacup, Razz watched the two speak. Fantastic. She couldn’t wait until she came home and could tell her husband that he likely wouldn’t need to worry about his sister being lonely anymore, thanks to yours truly. Red would be delighted that Fell had found a potential lover, in the most innocent sense of that word. Though of course, if they did start seeing each other for real, it probably wouldn’t stay all that innocent for too long. Being completely uninterested in men, Fell had never made any pretences to care about doing the Biblical thing of waiting until marriage, since she wouldn’t ever wed.

She sipped at her tea, smiling to herself. Matchmaking had never been her thing, and in fact she had found her girlhood friends’ interest in it quite ridiculous. But there certainly was something satisfying in watching Fell and Miss Dubois chat. They were both smiling much too brightly for it to be mere polite conversation – especially with the occasional blushing.

Razz chuckled, placing a hand on her growing stomach. If things went well, maybe there’d be _two_ aunts waiting for the little one once they were ready to greet their family. When she looked at the joy on Fell’s face, she knew she’d do what she could to ensure they would.

 _Plus_ , she thought, smirking, _I get the entertainment of watching the normally so confident Fell fumble for words. How lovely_.


	33. Date Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey look what I finally wrote! That UF Burgersans date I said I would write ages ago! Here it is: beware for sexual innuendos because Red is just like that

The sky was still grey when Red slid off his motorbike, glancing up at the enormous concrete building towering above him. It was grey and shapeless, utterly boring. Very cheap, too. After locking his bike into place, he glanced at the door. Though it should’ve been locked, the lock had long since been broken up and anyone could walk in and out as they wished. There were likely quite a few homeless folks seeking shelter in the staircases each night. Which he did not approve of, because this was a dangerous part of town and many who lived here were desperate, which made them even more dangerous. Fuck it, he’d probably have to pay to have it exchanged himself, and he didn’t even live here.

Taking off his helmet, he fixed his eyes on a window at the third floor. It was dark inside. Maybe the electricity had been cut again. He sighed loudly. Goddamn it, that fucking cat. Forcing _Red_ to be the responsible one, and that was a first. He gathered his magic, and with a _pop_ he appeared inside a messy living room. The two-room apartment was dusty, and cans of beer and energy drinks littered the floor, as well as cigarette butts. A broken couch and a table were the only furniture, and the table was full of old take away-boxes.

“Fuck, bud,” Red muttered to himself. Even _he_ thought this was too dirty to live in, and he had no standards.

A yelp came from behind, magic blazing, and his soul skipped as he shortcutted to the side, escaping the bullet with a good marginal. He grinned at the cat in front of him, with the claw marks running down over his yellow, gleaming eye. His eyes were wide in fear before he met Red’s gaze, and he relaxed, scowling.

He threw the cigarette resting between his fingers at him, and Red caught it mid-air, receiving an even deeper scowl. “You _scared_ _me_ , you fucking ass.”

“Get more attentive then, kitty cat.” He grinned, sticking the cigarette into his mouth and leaning against the wall. “Ya really fucking should be, or yer gonna get killed someday. An’ wouldn’t that be tragic?”

It genuinely would. The thought of losing Burgerpants was horrifying, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud. Burgerpants just glared at him.

“Anyway, I’m here to pick ya up for our _date_ , sweetheart.” That brought a flush to Burgerpants’ cheeks and the anger immediately disappeared as he spluttered. Red looked him over. He wore sweatpants and a stained t-shirt. “Get yerself into some nicer clothes. We’re going out.”

Now furiously red, Burgerpants nodded sharply and turned around, slamming the door to his bedroom shut behind him. Shaking his head, chuckling, Red heaved himself up on the table. His muddy combat boots kicked against the couch, but it was dirty enough he didn’t care. In fact, he was completely certain it hadn’t been cleaned since that time they had sex on it like seven months ago. Burgerpants just didn’t do that kind of thing. Neither did Red, really, but if nothing else Edge had managed to imprint _some_ sense of cleanliness on him.

Except for the combat boots, he was wearing ripped jeans, his best leather jacket – the one without any bloodstains – and a crimson t-shirt, a little tighter than he usually preferred his shirts. He swung his legs as he waited, listening to the frantic shuffling coming from the other room. Burgerpants swore loudly through the door, and he smiled, fonder than he’d ever admit to looking.

In due time, Burgerpants stumbled back out, flustered as he hunched in on himself, obviously self-conscious. Red looked him over. Black jeans with keychains, a black jeans jacket and a black shirt with a blood-red anarchy-symbol on it. He grinned. “ _Nice_. Looking awesome, darling.”

“Liar,” Burgerpants muttered, staring down at the floor.

With a quiet sigh, Red jumped down, stepping over to the other so he could take his hand, intertwining their fingers. He started pulling him toward the door. “I never lie, yanno. Might bend the truth sometimes but I ain’t a liar. Yer looking perfect.” It was obvious Burgerpants didn’t believe him, but he didn’t have to. Red wasn’t a therapist: rather, he was the farthest from a therapist one could come. He was here because he loved Burgerpants, not to force Burgerpants to love himself – even if that’d be great if it could be a side-effect. “Now let’s go. I have the perfect place in mind.”

“Where?”

Red winked at him as he pulled them through a shortcut. “You’ll see.”

As they blipped into view outside of the building, in front of the motorcycle, Burgerpants groaned, steadying himself against Red’s side. Getting dragged through the Void wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience, according to his brother – he’d never experienced it, obviously. Edge called it jarring, to get ripped from this world and then back into it. He patted Burgerpants’ hand before freeing himself so he could unlock the motorcycle. When he was done, he handed the other a black helmet before taking his own – black with crimson details – under his arm.

Without warning, he grabbed Burgerpants’ shirt collar, forcing him to bend over. Red pressed a quick kiss to his mouth, chuckling at the way his eyes widened before he relaxed into it, meowing in displeasure as he stepped back, pulling the helmet onto his head before climbing onto his bike. It was a _beautiful_ thing. A Harley Davidson 2019 Fat Boy, pitch-black and shiny. The name was hilarious, but he took better care of his bike than himself.

“Get up,” he said, smirking. “We’ve got places to be.”

As always, Burgerpants looked somewhat hesitant, eyes flickering over the motorcycle and up to Red’s helmet, wondering if it was safe. And then he shrugged, putting on his own helmet before climbing up behind Red. Likely deciding it wouldn’t be that big a tragedy if he crashed and died, which was worrying, but not something Red couldn’t relate to. Even if he certainly had more reasons to live than ever now, when they were on the Surface. The stars, his brother’s renewed joy over life, his students, Burgerpants, his motorcycle… There were many wondrous things about it, though he’d never say that out loud. He wasn’t a soppy fucker like Edge could be sometimes, especially when he was drunk or watching one of those stupid soaps of his. A guilty pleasure, Edge called it. Hilarious, Red said.

“Hold on tight.” He revved the engine, steering out on the concrete road. Despite the whining of the wind he could hear Burgerpants’ yelp as they gained speed, and his arms tightened around his waist. Red smirked. Angel, he acted so tough, but he really was just a little kitten. Adorable. Burgerpants’ apartment was on the edge of the city, and soon they hit the highway.

Fields spread out at all sides, filled with sunshine-yellow colza. The sky was pale grey and the air pleasantly warm against his leathers. Perfect conditions for a ride. And he very much enjoyed the feeling of Burgerpants’ warm arms around him. The cat monster gave out heat in a way he never could and was so soft against his thick bones. Which, admittedly, was an attractive trait in a skeleton, thick bones, but he definitely appreciated the contrast.

Cars and other vehicles were few and far between as they rushed down the highway. Even though he knew the other couldn’t hear him he murmured, “Hold on tight,” before accelerating. He hooted as they flied down the highway, the roaring of the smooth-running motor loud in his ears, the leather of the seat between his legs, and the arms of his lover around his waist. His soul fluttered in his chest. This was perfect.

Unfortunately, all perfect things had to end. Far too soon, he pulled up outside of their destination, parking the motorcycle next to a few other ones like it. None of the other ones was as beautiful as his, though. Pulling off his helmet, he grinned at Burgerpants, whose tail stood straight behind him. With a chuckle, he took off his helmet as well, kissing his cheek. “Calm down, kitty. We’re here.”

He blinked at the nickname, before his face contorted into a frown, a hiss escaping him. Red ignored it, gesturing toward the building next to them. Behind the concrete parking lot, a building towered above them. It was painted white with red stripes, much like a train carriage. Neon letters stood on sticks above the roof, spelling out _Ka-erin-s Diner_. Once it had said _Katherine’s Diner_ but some of the lights had gone out and no one had fixed it.

“Where- What’s this?” Burgerpants asked, staring at it. They were in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing here except a concrete parking lot, the diner, and a really old-fashioned gas station. Cars rushed by on the highway, seemingly not even noticing the old-style building.

Taking him around the waist, Red led him toward the door. “Welcome to Kath’s. It’s been here for over sixty years and has hardly changed since the fifties. It’s awesome. One of my favourite places, for sure.”

A bell jingled as they entered, and _Let’s Have a Party_ by Wanda Jackson washed over them on the same time as the air-conditioning did. He looked out over the diner. There weren’t a lot of people in here, rarely was on weekdays. Red and white leather couches lined the walls with tables in-between, with a shiny red bar counter opposite of the door. The walls were covered in old LPs and photos of artists and bikers. The dark-skinned lady behind the counter waved at them, and he saluted lazily back. Alyssa, he knew her name was.

He steered Burgerpants toward one of the couches, sitting him down before taking the opposite one, grinning at him over the table. Fishing up a nicotine gum from his pocket, he plopped it into his mouth. Damn, he hadn’t smoked enough today, but unfortunately, he couldn’t do it inside the diner. The humans had dumb fucking laws that prohibited smoking inside restaurants and shit. Though when he glanced at the family with three kids on the other side of the diner, he grudgingly had to admit it made sense. As much of an asshole he was, he didn’t want to give a kid second-hand smoke poisoning. Asgore’s trident, humans were so _fragile_.

“Watcha think ‘bout the place?”

Burgerpants looked around, curious but cautious as he asked, “Do they serve burgers?”

Reaching out, Red ran his claws over his hand. “Yeah, sweetheart. But a fuckton more too, dontcha worry. We’re not having it.” Fucking Mettaton had likely made it so that Burgerpants never could eat a burger again in his life. Which was a shame, since they were delicious, but that’s life Underground for ya.

One of his greatest pleasures in life was watching Burgerpants blush over his pet names, and he didn’t disappoint this time either, ducking his head. It got even worse as Red, grinning, lifted his hand so he could press a kiss to his fingers. Stars above, he loved that.

“Good,” Burgerpants muttered. “Never wanna see a fucking burger again.”

“I know.”

Right then, Alyssa arrived with a menu, which she handed to Burgerpants. Red got none – he’d memorized it a long time ago. “Ribs, and a coke.” Since he had to drive here, he had never gotten the chance to taste their alcohol. Someday, he’d get his brother to take him here so he could do that. Maybe he could threaten to show Undyne those pictures of drunk Edge grooming Doomfanger to make him agree to it. He smirked at the thought.

Burgerpants looked through the menu, and eventually ordered fajitas and a Samuel Adams. When Alyssa came back with their drinks, he eyed the beer jealously. Unfortunately, Burgerpants noticed, smirking as he poured it up in a glass, still foaming as he drank. Keeping eye-contact the whole time. Red let out a small growl.

“Asshole.”

That seemed to put him more at ease, and he gulped down some of the beer. Wiping off his mouth with his arm, he said, “Aren’t we all?”

“Fair enough.” Red snickered, heaving himself up on the table until he was sitting on it instead of the couch. Reaching out, he grabbed Burgerpants’ collar, who yelped as he pulled him forward, some of the beer rocking over the edges of the glass. He pressed their teeth together, coaxing his summoned tongue into the other’s mouth, before drawing Burgerpants’ into his. He grinned, and bit down.

Swearing loudly, Burgerpants pulled back as far as he could with Red still holding onto his shirt. He glared viciously at Red, who tilted his head innocently. “You fucking _dick_.”

Red chuckled loudly, scratching a claw against that Spot on his chest, just next to a scar where fur no longer grew, and Burgerpants glared at him as his pupil grew and he unwillingly relaxed into Red’s grip. “Sure. Once we come home you can have it,” he promised, careful not to speak loud enough for the children in the corner heard him. Nonetheless, his voice was smug. “Making you scream sounds like an appropriate ending for our _date_.”

Spluttering, Burgerpants opened his mouth before closing it again. His eyelids were beginning to drop beneath Red’s administrations. “Yeah,” he muttered, as though he didn’t quite want to say it. But desire shone in his eyes, and Red had long ago made him _swear_ that he’d never fucking agree to sex if he didn’t actually want it, fucking _hell_ dude, Red was many awful things – a killer and highly unethical scientist, among others – but not a fucking _rapist_ , so Red didn’t doubt he meant it. “That sounds great.”

“I know it does, darling,” Red said, grinning. “But we’re in public now so calm down with that. There’s children here.”

The betrayal and offence on Burgerpants’ face was hilarious.

Right then, Alyssa came with their food, eyeing them suspiciously. Red only grinned at her, winking, and she rolled her eyes before leaving again. She was more than used to his bullshit. Stabbing one of Burgerpants’ pieces of meat, he lifted the fork up to the cat’s mouth, prodding at his teeth. Burgerpants stared at him.

“We’re at a date,” Red said sweetly. “Lemme.”

After a moment, Burgerpants opened his mouth, letting Red feed him the meat. He chewed slowly as the fork was removed from his mouth.

“Good boy,” Red purred.

Burgerpants _melted_ , always so receptive to praise. Red chuckled. Stars, he loved this fucking cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're both garbage and I love them


	34. 1950

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a 1950′s (human) AU, with very varying historical accuracy because damn I don’t know anything about history after WWII, especially not _American_ history. Because history after the beginning of WWI isn't particularly interesting to me

Throwing the hood of the car shut, Razz grinned up at her boyfriend. She wiped her oil-stained hands off on her grey mechanic’s overalls, blowing a strand of blonde hair that had escaped her bun out of her face. Red leaned against the wall of the garage, looking very handsome in his jeans and leather jacket and with his messy black hair. Not to talk of his deep brown eyes, so dark they were almost black. They were  _enchanting_. As the hood closed with a thump, he raised an eyebrow.

“You done, sweetheart?”

“Yep. Mr Simmons’ car is as good as new.” She laughed quietly, glancing at the clock. 4 PM. Just in time, then. “He’s going to be so mad that dad put me on fixing it.” She patted the dark-blue Ford. A beautiful thing, it was a shame its owners were as bigoted as, well, most everyone. The  _most everyone_  who’d call her a whore for wearing jeans to school, just like she did every day.

With a loud snort, Red pushed himself off the wall, coming up to her. She tipped her face upwards so he easily could kiss her. His lips were soft against hers.

He grinned as he stepped back just a bit, but not enough for their bodies not to be pressed against each other. Apparently, he didn’t care that he got oil all over his fancy jacket – and why would he? The Taneja-family were rich as hell.

“He’s gonna be furious,” he murmured, brushing the loose lock out of her face. The look on his face was positively gleeful. “It’ll be great. I’ve seen the way they look at us, and I doubt it’s only because of our amazing sense of style.”

Of course not. Obviously, Mr and Mrs Simmons didn’t approve of interracial relationships. With Red being Indian-American and her being white,  _plus_  the fact that neither of them gave a damn about traditions, people like the Simmons hated them. Sniggering, Razz pecked his lips, sliding a hand under his shirt. His belly was soft, chubby, but she could sense the muscles beneath.

“Oh, I’m sure they disapprove of our behaviour too. But all the town does, so what else is new?”

His soft laughter was infectious, and she could only join in, eventually pulling her hands back so she could grab a tissue from the bench nearby to wipe her hands off. Without looking, she threw the ball of paper into the nearby trashcan.

Her dad peeked out from behind the corner, raising an eyebrow at Red moving his shirt back in place. But he didn’t comment, he never did, for which Razz was grateful. “Are you done? Mr Simmons is here.”

“Just a minute ago.” She fished up the car keys from her pocket, grinning at him. “Shall I take it out?”

With a nod, he disappeared again.

“I’ll walk out front then,” Red said with a grin. “Can’t miss the show.”

Agreeing, Razz slid into the leather seat and started the car as he disappeared. Technically, she wasn’t old enough to drive for another year, but this was her dad’s land and even the Police knew not to interfere with the way he ran his business lest they wanted to get banned from the only garage in the town. The motor purred like a happy cat as she steered it out to the parking lot, and it was like music to her ears.

Anticipation made her jumpy as she parked it outside of the old building that was now her family’s garage. It was connected to their house, which laid on its right side: small and white, with a tiny garden. Not much, but enough for a family of three. As she re-entered the garage, Mr Simmons, in his grey suit, was just paying her dad at the counter while glaring suspiciously at Red, who lounged in the old couch by the wall, grinning back at him.

A meter behind Mr Simmons stood his daughter. Blue. Razz raised an eyebrow. She’d never seen the girl outside of school before. Blue smiled somewhat nervously at her as she saw her looking, and Razz winked back. She was certainly pretty, with her black hair in a tight bun where a single curl had escaped, and with her ice-blue eyes which stood out as an immense contrast to her incredibly dark skin. Her lips were painted a pale pink, matching her pink and blue dress.

Spinning the car-keys around her finger, she stepped past Blue and up to the counter, where she dropped them. “Your car is ready to go.”

Mr Simmons stared at her in disbelief before glaring at her dad. “I  _said_  I didn’t want a girl touching my car.”

Her dad just shrugged, a smirk quirking his mouth. “If you don’t like how I run my business, you’re welcome to go somewhere else.” One and a half hour to the next garage. “I did give you my best mechanic, Mr Simmons. Like you asked.”

As expected, Mr Simmons didn’t say anything about that. Once he’d finished paying, he turned his back to her dad without not even sparing her a glance. “Let’s go, Blue,” he ordered as he passed by his daughter.

Blue startled, and Razz grinned as she realized she’d been staring at her the whole time. She raised an eyebrow, and Blue blushed, giving her a quick wave and hurrying after her father. Well. That was a bit odd, but she wasn’t complaining. She’d never complain about the attention of a pretty girl.

“Well, that was fun,” Red said, coming over to throw an arm around her shoulders. He chuckled, kissing the top of her head. “You free now?” He looked at her dad. “Can I steal yer daughter off work, sir?”

Her dad didn’t do much more than glance at Red as he looked through the book of bookings. “Let me know if you stay overnight,” was all he said.

Razz nodded, leaning into her boyfriend’s chest. “Will do.” She glanced up at Red. “Has Mrs Taneja decided I’m an unfit match for you yet?”

“Nah.  _Maa_ has grown fond of ya, even if you refuse to act like a civilized woman.” He kissed her hair as they made their way over to the entrance to the house. She definitely needed a shower before she could go anywhere – and get changed. “Which is exactly why I love you.”

They closed the door to the garage behind them. Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she sneaked her arm around his waist before sliding her hand down to his butt, squeezing.

Red just chuckled, the hand on her hip tightening. “That’s  _exactly_  what I’m talking about.”


	35. Just Some Rottenberry

It was a while since Razz smiled. In all honesty, Blue was growing worried; his counterpart had been frowning constantly for days. Even now when he’d come over to Blue’s place for movie night so they could have fun and relax. But relax, he did not. Blue frowned as he regarded the other, who paced around the livingroom. This was supposed to be  _fun_ , just the two of them watching dumb horror movies and picking them apart. And instead Razz had, just as he was beginning to look slightly less stressed, remembered that he was training the new Guard recruits on his own tomorrow.

He swore internally. Razz’s boots clicked against the wooden floor -  _click, click, click._ Biting down on his tongue, Blue glared at the ceiling. This couldn’t be accepted. As Razz marched past the couch, muttering to himself, he grabbed his arm. 

Razz hissed, much like an angry cat, eye flaring as he twisted around. His gaze caught on Blue and his shoulders sank. “That was stupid,” he growled. “I could’ve attacked you.”

Blue raised an eyebrow. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

With a jerk, he pulled Razz into his lap, embracing him too tight for him to escape.

“ _Blue_ ,” he protested, glaring at him.

Grinning, Blue kissed his forehead. “Time to calm down. You need to relax.”

The glare intensified. His eyes narrowed and his mouth turned into a thin line. “No, what I  _need_  is for everyone to stop being so fucking incompetent.”

“I can’t fix that.” Blue kissed his cheek as well, petting his arm. “But I can hold you until you have no other choice than relaxing.”

“Wha-  _Blue!_  You can’t, I’ll just break free.”

“Nope. You’d have to hurt me and you never would.”

Razz opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. He knew Blue was right. It shut with a  _clack_  as his teeth hit each other.

Grinning in triumph, Blue turned on the television, making sure to hold Razz tight the whole time. If he let up one second, his boyfriend might escape and he couldn’t have that. As the newest horror movie began to play, Razz grumbled and settled into his lap.

Holding in a chuckle, Blue kissed him one last time.

“Good boy,” slipped out anyway, and Razz growled. He laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy, please leave a comment! It really makes my day!
> 
> And if you enjoy Spicyhoney you'll find a collection specifically for that ship [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16846804/chapters/39551125), and if you appreciate Blackcherry, [here's](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16850029/chapters/39559588) a collection specifically for that! 
> 
> I am, for now, on [Tumblr](https://odderancyart.tumblr.com) and you'll find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/odderancy) as well!


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